Team 7's Ascension: Lines in the Sand
by Eilyfe
Summary: Keep fighting, they say, eventually you will have won. But what is winning? As order in the Element Nations collapses, Team Seven asks just that. The desert cries out and on blood-soaked dunes their sandals leave imprints. Where do you draw the line when war puts morality into question at every turn? [AU]
1. Straight I

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

 **AN:** Hey, folks! It's been a while, but I thought the first chapter of the sequel to T7A – Blood Wings might make you happy. Enjoy! On my profile you'll find two links, each leading you to a map. I don't think they're necessary to understand the story, but maybe they'll help you in situating the different localities. But enough of that. I think it's time for the show to get on the road.

Ps: Apparently the links to the maps weren't working because only white-listed sites are accepted. Just insert the periods, etc. and it should start to work. I'm sorry that the issue is so cumbersome at the moment. Hopefully it'll work this way.

* * *

 **Lines in the Sand**

 **Straight – I**

* * *

" _Why are you like this?" the child asked._

" _I was born from necessity," the first wolf said._

" _I have never been anything else," the second wolf said._

 _The third wolf looked at them and laughed._

" _I became what I am because I grew to like the taste of flesh. Being a sheep offers nothing."_

* * *

Eight months after Orochimaru's treachery broke Konoha's walls, Sarutobi Hiruzen stood on Suna's battered main plaza having returned the favor. The tiles under his feet were chipped. The fountain close to him missed half its structure, a deep gouge in the ground where the other half had been.

Four ANBU guarded him as he walked up the stairs to the last dome-like building that had survived the siege. They shoved open the double-winged doors, waited for him to pass, then fell back into rank.

For the upcoming event he had donned his red and white robes again, covering his armor where the blood wouldn't come off. His boots echoed as he strode toward the chamber at the other end of the hallway. His guards made no noise, but today Hiruzen wanted others to hear his approach.

Two ANBU opened the last door, three more vanishing inside to check the room. The chamber was large and well-lit. A tapestry hung to one side; from two braziers in front of it came faint smoke and the smell of incense. In the middle of the room stood a large table lined by flat cushions. One on his side, four across.

Hiruzen seated himself, then looked at the expressions meeting him: ashamed, angry, resigned, disinterested.

"You lost," he said, putting his hat on the table. "Your village belongs to Konoha, as does a large part of Wind Country. The rebellious elements we still encounter in the southern reaches are negligible. In a few weeks they will have no resistance to offer anymore, and then Suna as a whole will cease to exist."

One councilman looked up angrily. He gripped the edge of the table, knuckles whitening. "This whole thing is your fault, Sarutobi. It was a shinobi from Konoha who tricked us. Your student. You want to shove your responsibility onto us because you cannot reign in the monster of your own creation!"

The old woman left to the councilman shook her head, and the man to his right, bald and garbed in the traditional white robes of the Odaya priests, squeezed his shoulder.

Hiruzen fixed the group with a hard stare. "You should remind yourself on which side of the table you sit. Orochimaru is of Konoha's making, but that does not exonerate you. It was you who listened to a sworn enemy of my people. You who broke down Konoha's walls, pillaging and spreading murder."

"He is young," the old woman said, dipping her head, gray hair falling in her face.

"Then make sure he learns fast, Chiyo-dono," Hiruzen said.

"We will," the priest said.

"See that you do." Hiruzen leaned forward, pushing with both elbows against the table, mouth a thin line. "If you cooperate with my terms, Konoha will not absorb Suna. It is one of the Great Five and I have no intention of rewriting history to such an extent. Betray Konoha's trust once more, however, and I will return." He locked eyes with them. "Should that happen I will raze this village to the ground."

The advisors remained calm now. Just one of them seemed unfazed. The disinterested expression the man next to Chiyo wore struck a memory of when Hiruzen had first taken the Sannin to Suna. Jiraiya had found a bottle back then, filled with a liquid he thought alcohol. Hours later Jiraiya and Tsunade had told him that it felt like being enveloped in cotton, safe, and that not even an emotion like fear could reach you.

The man exploded in a whirl of motion, double-edged kunai racing for Hiruzen's throat.

 _Jōnin_.

Hiruzen slapped the kunai out of the man's hand. He reached forward, planting his palm on the head of the man before driving him brow-first into the table. The wood gave in, and the face broke through toward the floor with the sound of wood stabbing flesh.

His ANBU, swords drawn and pointed at the council, extracted the dead Jōnin and one left the chamber with the corpse. Hiruzen settled down again and looked across the table.

"I hope this was as much a surprise to you as it was to me," he said. The angry councilman blanched, but it was a paleness born of general fear. He flinched when Hiruzen glanced at him.

 _He has nothing to do with this. The rebels can still reach Suna, then._

"It did, Sarutobi-dono," the councilman said, lowering his head. "We knew Heki was... displeased, but not to this extent. I... also apologize for my earlier outburst. It was unbecoming of a member of this honored body."

Hiruzen sat quietly, hands resting on the remnants of the table. The leader of the rebel forces was an old acquaintance, Senyaku Fushigi. Hiruzen had stood with and against him in multiple wars. The man was capable, a strong fighter, an even smarter tactician. Any other man Kakashi would have fooled, but meeting Senyaku back when he'd been spying on Suna's war preparations was plain bad luck. No, Konoha's position was far from secure as long as that man still commanded shinobi. The title rebel didn't make people who had been soldiers once any weaker.

He nodded at last, and the councilman raised his head, color returning to his face. Hiruzen reached into his robes, pulling out a scroll and putting it on the table next to the hole. The edge of the scroll was specked with blood from his armor.

"These are the terms for your surrender."

Chiyo took the scroll, broke the seal and read, the councilman and the priest deferring to her. She looked up from the parchment. "You will allow a new Kazekage to be put in place?"

"Eventually," Hiruzen said. "For now Suna remains under Konoha's jurisdiction. Once the region has stabilized and the conditions are met Suna may elect a new Kazekage, one that also has the approval of Konoha."

The priest frowned. "That is a rather unusual practice..."

"I have no intentions of breaking the tradition our forefathers left us," Hiruzen said. "Five great villages, no more, no less. But I will not risk the election of another Kazekage to whom my village is an enemy. This has been neither the first, nor the second time Suna has betrayed our alliance."

Glancing at the sun shining through the high windows Hiruzen rose from the cushion, letting his gaze swivel through the room as the ANBU assembled around him. "This was Suna's last strike, honorable councilors. There won't be another. The last months should have proven beyond any doubt that Konoha wasn't built on empty promises."

"Of course, Hokage-dono," Chiyo said. Hiruzen didn't envy her position.

He left them with those words and, turning away from them, the door falling shut behind him, found himself back on the plaza a minute later. The sun was warm and pressing, and the air thick with the stench of a won war.

A Chūnin wearing a bandana appeared next to him.

"You have news, Izumo?" Hiruzen said.

"Yes, Hokage-sama."

Izumo leaned in closer and whispered a few words. Listening Hiruzen closed his eyes, feeling the years in his bones. When he opened them again the sun seemed much brighter, much harsher than before.

* * *

"Faster!"

The students ran and Naruto sat on a log watching them. They increased their pace closing in on the wall, vaulting over it one after another, slowing down, deciding, then sliding through under the next obstacle. Naruto glanced at his stopwatch as they hauled themselves through an artificial swamp, building stairs at the end once they came on a wall too high to leap over.

The course ended at the far side of the training ground behind Konoha's academy. The last part lay out of sight, but Naruto heard the dull sound of wooden kunai being deflected. Noise dying the students came back into his field of vision, jogging along the beaten trail beside the course. Eleven boys and six girls took up position in front of him. They assembled in two lines, cheeks red, knees shaking in their black slacks. Uniforms had become important for everyone save the few Jōnin who were known enough to be recognized on the battlefield. Naruto sported the same black, his green vest leaning against the trunk. Today was a hot day.

He waited until the last boy had gathered his bearings. They wore miserable looks altogether.

"You know what comes next," he said.

The students arranged themselves in a circle that left a forty foot diameter between them. The last time they had protested was weeks past. They just looked resigned now.

Naruto called four names. Three boys and one girl stepped into the circle, eying each other. They were wary, the girl in a stance already, the boys following suit. They shifted their balance to scare each other, but the game was old. They had fought too often like this to be intimidated by the warm up.

"Same rules," Naruto said. "Taijutsu, no teams."

He whistled and the four jumped forward, little whirlwinds of kicks and jabs. Fists were flying, most missing, some scoring a hit on accident. The girl stumbled into one of the boys and managed to ram her knee into his stomach. Naruto pulled the collapsing boy out of the ring, slapping the shoulder of a spectating student on the way back.

"You're next."

Every thirty seconds he whistled and, one more student entering the fight, he kept watching their footwork. The wartime program proved to be hard fare for the kids, and Naruto still doubted that he was the right one for the job. But after the screw up seven months ago he couldn't complain. Team Seven had gotten off easy in comparison to those who were actually tried for treason.

The circle was a slugfest, all seventeen students duking it out, shouting and moaning in pain. In between pulling out more injured Naruto glanced at the large windows of the academy. Inside Iruka was giving lessons on wartime regulations, setting ambushes, and staying alive. The theoretical parts had been cut heavily in favor of physical training. Iruka was one of the last instructors still giving them. The last good one anyway.

 _I don't get why you make me do this, Jiji._

He looked back to the circle. The girl was driving her knuckles into the face of another student, but then got clipped by a haymaker. The blow threw her to the ground and she rolled over twice before Naruto got to her. He put the girl next to the fallen tree that the other students were leaning against. Her lip was bleeding and Naruto chucked a small container of cheap salve at her.

He whistled again and the students stopped in their tracks.

"That's enough. Settle down. We're almost done for today."

Some sat down on the spot; others pulled themselves together and made it to the fallen tree before collapsing in panting heaps. Naruto sat back down on the tree stump across them, watching. He knew they hated him the same way he had hated Kakashi. Just that they were younger than he'd been and hated him more for it. They didn't understand the urgency, even when he told them the world was burning. And the sad truth was they wouldn't understand until getting licked themselves.

Parents had complained twice already, and Naruto wanted to agree but couldn't. If the invasion had taught him anything, then that no enemy force gave you the courtesy of fighting one on one. Jōnin would teach them teamwork when the time came. Until then they'd learn how to keep on their toes even after laying out an enemy, and how to stay alive against many when all you feel is confusion and fear.

 _That's all I can teach them anyway. Haven't got much else._

He was about to launch into a review of their footwork when a presence closed in. His hand went to his kunai holster, but the signature appearing belonged to a woman in Chūnin garb. The kids grew talkative and excited at the new arrival. Naruto shot them a look that promised another five runs on the obstacle course.

"Stay here and keep it down. No fighting until I'm back."

They nodded dutifully and he walked over to the Chūnin. She was half a head taller than him. Pale features, brown hair. Muscular. Holster fixed to the leg and weapon pouch at the waist. He looked closer. Her vest had been modified by hand, hiding either weapons or steel plates.

"A problem?" he asked.

"Just a message," she said, handing him a blue-lined scroll.

Naruto skimmed it. "Do Sasuke and Sakura know?"

"Not yet."

"Don't bother, I'll tell them. Who'll be there?"

She looked uncomfortable. "Everyone of note."

"That serious, then…" Naruto rolled up the scroll. "Thanks anyway. I guess I'll see you there?"

The Chūnin nodded, waved at the kids, then leaped onto the academy roof. From there she jumped to a large water tank, then out of sight and farther into the village. Naruto secured the scroll to his belt. His students were breathing normally now, talking quietly among themselves.

"Listen up," he said, coming back. "I just got the news that this'll be my last day as your instructor."

The relief in their expression wasn't unwarranted. Understanding that didn't make it sting less though. One last time, he told himself, crouching so he was on eye-level with them.

"I'm leaving," he said. "That doesn't mean your next teacher will be any easier on you. Trouble's coming fast. You need to be strong when it's here, you get me? I know you don't like this. I know it's unfair and hard and that you hurt each day. But you can't stop now. Keep training. Keep sparring. Even if it hurts and you want to lie down, keep running that course until you dream of it. That's the only way to get ready."

 _That's the only way for you to stay alive._

Nods all around, but Naruto knew they wouldn't understand, even if he told them a hundred times.

"Take care now," he said, rising to full height. "And if I learn you bothered your new teacher any, I'm coming back, hear me? You won't like it when I have to come back."

They nodded again and Naruto smiled. It unsettled them. He hadn't had much to smile while preparing them. Clapping his hands he said, "Class dismissed," and watched them leave toward the academy building where they'd shower and change into their usual clothes.

He'd wanted them to like him—a childish thought that hadn't survived reality.

* * *

Steam shot out of the teapot and Sakura was quick to take it from the burner. She took a deep breath as she poured the chamomile tea in two cups standing on a tray beside her.

 _Yes, that's it. Now only a spoon of sugar and we're there. You make one mean tea, Haruno. Better than Ino anyway._

Then again, she'd had enough practice by now. She took the tray to the flat table in the middle of the room, positing a cup on each side. The table was made of Senju wood, dark stained, polished, and worth a fortune. The same went for the whole room. It was the coziest prison cell she'd ever seen. Not that she'd seen many, but rumors told they usually were dingy, wet, and reeking of waste.

But all the Senju wood didn't surround her because it looked great—which it did. Rather it helped the boy opposite of her keep control, as did a dozen stabilizing seals Jiraiya had plastered on his body months ago.

Gaara took the cup and sipped at it, dignified and silent. He liked chamomile because it calmed him, or so he said. Sakura had no way to prove that by his facial expression—he was much like Sasuke in that regard—but Gaara hadn't refused a single pot of tea since she started making it. That's as good a sign as any, she told herself.

Gaara's hair was quite a bit longer than it had been when she first saw him. And Sakura was sure if circumstances were different, he'd have a lot of girls after him. The eyes made sure of that. First time Ino had hesitantly visited her during this assignment she had to be kicked out eventually.

Sakura hadn't shared in that enthusiasm. Contrary to Ino she knew quite well who Gaara was and what he was capable of. Sure, he was beautiful in a way, but so were Naruto and Sasuke. No, she was more fascinated than enamored. Here was someone so like Naruto, yet nothing like him at all.

She gave him another moment to drink his tea, took a sip of her own, then rummaged in her bag and pulled out a map.

"Careful," she said, nodding at his cup and unfurling the map. "I borrowed this from the Archives. No idea if they're valuable but I'd rather not risk it."

"Geography again? I was under the impression we covered this field the last eight times."

"The world's a big place." She politely refrained from laughing at the irritation that couldn't be seen but still went out from him in waves.

"This seems… excessive, Sakura-san."

She smiled. Learning always did. Naruto and Sasuke were much the same. "Don't worry," she said. "I planned something different for today. Wind Country, to be precise. I'd love to hear more about it."

Gaara raised an eyebrow. "Are you extracting information?"

"In a sense," she said, laughing. "You know how this goes. Feel free to tell me whatever you want."

He began talking, his words chosen carefully, and Sakura listened, by now used to the surreal experience. Jiraiya's stabilizers and this room had done wonders for him. Months ago Gaara had had for the first time a mind free of whispers and bloodlust. Surprising what miracles that worked for a person, really. Not that he blossomed or something quaint like that. But he had a voice that could calm you down and made you listen. When he got talking he wasn't half-bad actually.

 _You'd never know he's a Jinchūriki_ , Sakura thought listening. _Just reserved, or a bit shy maybe._

The voice would be a perfect fit for a good teacher, which made it quite sad that he had never received a formal education. She was a bit suspicious that the Hokage had immediately agreed to her remedying that issue. Back then the Hokage had barely given her enough time to finish presenting the idea before congratulating her, saying that education was the first step to a world beyond death.

Well, at least she had something else to do than brewing tea since then. Boredom was good at times, but it was also bad, mostly when you had to spend the time with someone else who was probably equally bored.

Gaara had, in any case, never said anything about liking her any more than the guards outside his room. But he was a private person, and she'd like to believe that he'd miss their shared lessons once she was called back to duty.

He had just told her of the Oasis of Ike and another city called Hajim at Wind Country's seaside. Then he stopped talking, drank his tea, and Sakura waited for him to continue. She knew of at least one other city in the area. The drug baron Aasim, Kabuto the fake healer, and the prostitutes murdering bandits for white powder made it hard to forget the cesspit that was Boeki Tōshi.

She hummed questioningly when Gaara didn't continue.

"That is all I know," he said.

"You've only been to two cities beside Suna?"

"One. I just recounted what I remember hearing of Ike."

 _Ouch. But that's what I'm here for._

She leaned over the table, fingertips tracing circles around the places he had named. His eyes were following her finger over the map, to the dot that marked Boeki Tōshi.

"This place is pretty rotten," she explained. "At least if you're there at night. From what I heard they're trading a lot though, and they love their independence. There's been a few tries to make it more, let's say "government friendly," but that didn't really work all that well."

Gaara leaned over the map as well, inspecting the dot and glancing at the symbols of marked resources nearby. Sakura had noticed this before. Gaara's lack of facial expression made it hard to tell, but he _was_ interested in his home and all the things his father probably should've taught him.

She followed his look up to the ports that were trading with Boeki Tōshi, and she imagined he was filing away the information in that magic way of his. He had a terrifying memory. It had scared the bejeezus out of her when he had first recited every single name from the history book they had read a day earlier.

"Did you learn that at your academy?" Gaara asked.

"God, no. Kiba and Naruto would've bailed the second Iruka-sensei wrote it on the board. No, I've actually visited it a while ago."

He looked up, surprised. "You've been to Wind Country?"

"Once. There's a lot of sand."

There was a miniscule twitch in his left eyebrow. Sakura counted that as a victory.

"It's a desert," Gaara said.

"And deserts have a lot of sand," she said, quite seriously. "But does it have to be all sand? Couldn't there be, I don't know, some animals beside scorpions and snakes? Or a few palms. I've seen my first palms in River Country. They're beautiful."

 _Which makes it sound like I've lazed on the beach. Well, maybe I did. Naruto had to carry me, after all._

"There are plants in the desert," Gaara said.

Sakura raised an eyebrow. "I've seen none, but I guess you're the expert there. Been out to the desert often?"

"Every day."

"And there really are plants?"

"Two large fields south of Suna." He pointed at an area on the map. "Farther out there are more."

"What're they looking like?"

"Green and purple. They're taller than people."

Sakura was about to ask for the name when someone knocked at the door.

"Come in," she called out.

Naruto entered the room, three containers with Ramen in his hand. "Hey there, hope I'm not interrupting."

Naruto put the Ramen on the table, seating himself right next to Gaara.

"Thank you, Naruto-san," Gaara said, reaching for the Ramen, breaking apart the chopsticks and swirling the noodles inside the bowl.

"It's Naruto, I told you. Now feast on this godly broth. Can't let the deity be waiting."

 _Jinchūriki,_ Sakura thought, shaking her head _. I wonder if they have a special, Ramen-friendly metabolism._

Shrugging and accepting that she might never know, Sakura turned to her own noodles. "Did something happen?" she asked Naruto between bites. "You should be teaching for another hour."

Naruto, done already, pushed the container away and leaned back, sighing. "Sorry to say, but this might be the last you see of us for a while, Gaara. New orders came in."

Naruto handed Sakura the scroll.

"He's right," she murmured, reading. "We've new orders. I'm sorry, Gaara."

"You are active shinobi. I have no monopoly on your time."

Naruto rolled his eyes. "That sounds so lame," he said. "Listen, we'll visit as often as we can. Jinchūriki have to stick together."

Sakura doubted that Gaara believed Naruto. Six months of good treatment and camaraderie didn't abolish a lifetime of hate and ignorance. That was nothing she could change right now though. Or maybe it was. And maybe she already had. Gaara was always so frustrating to read.

Eventually they had finished the Ramen and got up, saying good bye. Outside Gaara's room the guard looked as severe as ever.

* * *

 _Operation Success_ were the magical words Sasuke had just stamped on a slew of documents. Turning back to Shizune he skimmed the files while the woman kept talking non-stop to him and the other three medic-nin. They were in her office at the hospital—neat place, everything structured, one plant that caught every eye as the only green object nearby.

"… which is why we could reverse the damage from the lightning Jutsu," Shizune said. "Four weeks of healing and his eyes will have fully recovered. He should spend that time in dark rooms however. I don't want to expose him too early to sunlight."

The three medic-nin did their best to look concurring.

"I'll make sure he knows, Shizune-san," one said.

The generous sacrifice for implicit favors later on. There was always one of those around.

Sasuke finished reading and put the documents in order, filing them at the right places. This surgery brought nothing new to the table, but medical information on eyes was always high on the agenda after Naruto had revived him near Tanyū.

He wasn't in the same pay grade as the three sheep gathered around Shizune, and usually he wouldn't get to see those files. Being hailed as the next medical prodigy had its perks though, even if he wished it had never become necessary.

He had lost count of how often Tsunade had been called in because he had used his Sharingan, thinking that the corrosive power of the Kyuubi would dissipate eventually, that his eyes were fine, as always, would be fine for a long time from that moment on. Each time she had told him that this wasn't the case and that the chakra burnt through the nerves connecting the eyes to the brain. Nothing would change that. Tsunade could repair the damage when she was nearby, but enabling him to use the Sharingan again? Out of question.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes and one of the medic-nin twitched after looking at him.

 _As if I'd ever accept an answer like that._

The discussion in the office turned to another patient, one with an infected leg and a bad case of chakra depletion.

"I'll head off," Sasuke said, already walking out the door, white coat sweeping behind him. He hated it. Though the last time he'd left the coat at home, not just Shizune but Tsunade as well had explained in no unclear terms why he needed it.

"Uchiha-san!"

Sasuke heard the call from the adjacent hallway and ducked around the next corner and into another corridor. He hated this too. Having earned his basic healing certificate in half a year when it took other people six times that long meant that he now had to help with patients. Hokage's order. Or rather Tsunade's order, with the explicit approval of the Hokage.

 _One day he'll choke on his pipe._

Buttoning up the coat he hurried down the hallway. Healing his Sharingan was all he was here for. Nothing else. Certainly not dealing with grabby patients telling him their stories. He didn't care that Tsunade said it was impossible for him to reach his goal. Uchiha were far from normal people. For him impossible became improbable but in the realms of possibility.

He was almost through the next door when the voice of another nurse came from beside him. She was small, but not bad looking. He liked the short black hair. What he didn't like was the aura of calm certainty around her, and that she got people to do their work.

"Yes?" he asked.

She pointed at a room at the far side of the hall. "There's a patient waiting for treatment, Uchiha-san. You still have three hours until your shift is over." After a moment, "And please don't make us chase you all the time."

Sasuke tried glaring his way out of the situation, but that hadn't worked the last few times either. She just kept looking at him, unyielding. Ten seconds later he gave her a curt nod and went over to the room. Inside, a middle aged man, bald, with purple-black bruises and a deformed scar on his right arm sat on the examination table.

"Aren't you a bit young for this?"

Sasuke pulled over a chair, took his seat, and let his green-glowing hand wander over the bruises.

"Hey, aren't you listening?"

The chilling glare usually kept them silent.

"I mean," the man said, "don't you want to know how I got this? For your diagnosis?"

"Hn."

The healing process would be fairly quick. Nothing Sasuke couldn't handle due to a lack of experience. That had happened only once so far. He disliked thinking of it.

"I got this in a fight with a nuke-nin. Dangerous guy, I say. Goes by Knife in the bingo book—huge bounty. Nearly laid him flat—ouch!"

The process could, at times, be a bit painful however. That depended entirely on how skilled and willing the medic-nin was.

"Anyway, I guess you wouldn't understand how dangerous—"

The man cried out again and Sasuke continued healing. Three minutes later the bruises were fading and the few cuts had been sealed. The man jumped up, shot Sasuke an angry look, and stormed out of the room. Smoothing the wrinkles out of his coat Sasuke crossed his ankles, leaning back against the table. As long as no new patient came he'd be able to camp here. Lucky that the sign outside would still show the room to be in use.

The door opened.

Sasuke tensed.

Then Naruto and Sakura filed into the room and he relaxed again.

"Still loving your job?" Naruto said.

Sasuke pulled a scalpel from the tablet on the table and threw it at Naruto's face. Sakura picked it out of the air before it was even halfway through the room.

"That wasn't for you," Sasuke said, frowning.

"We've more important things to worry about right now." Sakura slid the scalpel under the right sleeve of her black slacks. "New orders."

"Tell me I'm done here," Sasuke said.

Sakura grinned. "You're done here."

Sasuke got up, unsealing his vest. "First good news of the day."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Naruto said.

Sasuke patted the pockets of his vest. Everything was at the right place. "Mission and time?"

"Today," Naruto said. "Assembly. You know the place. We've been there before at the Chūnin Exams."

Sasuke flung the coat carelessly over the examination table. The nurses could pick it up later. He popped his shoulders and neck, then made for the door, Naruto and Sakura following.

"Glad to be out," Sasuke said. "Can't say I'm looking forward to the meeting though."

"I hear you," Sakura said. "Hard to imagine something good coming from this."

"Do we still have time?" Naruto asked. They were walking down the hallways, ignoring two nurses calling after Sasuke, moving through the foyer.

Outside Sakura shadowed her face against the sun. "It's supposed to be at late afternoon, early evening. I'd say an hour or so."

"Home it is," Sasuke said.

"Count on it," Naruto said. "I'm hungry."

Sakura shook her head. "You just ate with Gaara."

"Still hungry."

As his teammates continued to bicker Sasuke followed them onto the streets of Konoha. Food sounded like a good plan.

* * *

The sun was already simmering orange-red at the horizon when Team Seven arrived in front of their home in South Konoha, coincidentally only a few feet away from where they had killed Kimimaro. Their new-built house fit right in with the other buildings that had shot up after the rubble of the battle was cleared. It was a simple one-story house—bought with the funds from their mission to Wave and some extra money courtesy of the Uchiha treasury—and with enough room for four people and a small backyard.

Only three of the available four rooms were in use though, and that more than anything saddened Sakura. From time to time she'd go in and water the two plants they had placed there as decoration, always also seeing the bed that hadn't been used since it was bought, a shelf empty of everything that made it seem like someone was living there.

Chasing those thoughts away Sakura went up the steps leading to the door. The room would be used eventually. She had no doubt of that. Sakura turned the key and ushered her teammates inside, Naruto immediately setting out for the pantries and rummaging for more Ramen.

"Don't take too long," Sakura called after him, laughing. One day he'd eat himself to death.

 _He'd die with a smile though. That's sure. A big, goofy smile and noodles hanging from his lips._

"Just have to find them," Naruto called back.

Sasuke, efficient as always, already had the burner heating and the water boiling. He was far from a fan, but in this house you didn't go far without liking noodles and knowing the procedure of making them fast. Smiling Sakura shrugged out of her vest, letting it fall carelessly to the ground, moving over to a large closet at the other end of the living room.

She opened the closet and pushed her chakra into the seal Naruto had carved into the back, watching two stacks of scrolls pop into existence.

"What do you think we'll need?" Sakura asked loudly so they could hear her in the kitchen.

"Three months," Sasuke called back.

Sakura nodded to herself. Three months sounded good. She selected three scrolls from the left stack containing shuriken, kunai, more seals, and different weaponry. Then she did the same with the right. Those scrolls were for medical salves, bandages, and simple food rations.

She had 'invented' this system months ago, because if their rescue mission had driven one point home, it was that preparation paid off and not having what you needed sucked. Should they ever want to do stupid things again, at least they'd be prepared now.

Moving back to the kitchen, the smell of spicy noodle broth heavy in the air, she lined up the scrolls on the kitchen table and settled down while Naruto played at being a professional Ramen sommelier.

"How's Kakashi-sensei today?" she asked Sasuke, who was staring at the large Uchiha fan she had painted on the wall across the table three months back. Hers and Naruto's symbols were in the living room. The wall in the bathroom was still free.

"Same old," Sasuke said. "The poison's not easy to get rid of."

"How long until he wakes up?" she asked. "It's been so long already…"

"Until Tsunade decides that he's healthy enough and the coma isn't necessary anymore. She's frustrated."

"As am I." Sakura glared at the table. "I'll gut that snake bastard when I see him next."

"Take a number," Naruto said, sitting down eating his food. "But seriously, I'll lose my appetite if you keep talking about Orochimaru. Remember, house rules apply to you too, Sakura. You've already filled your "one revenge talk per week" quota when you complained about Ino yesterday."

"True enough," she said, sighing and lowering her head on her arms. "Sasuke still got his, doesn't he?"

"Surprisingly enough," Naruto said. "Technically he saved up two weeks."

"Urghh." Sakura buried her head farther into her arms. When she looked up again Sasuke was smirking at her. It was the kind of expression that made her want to grin and punch him at the same time.

She stayed in her position, even as she sensed Sasuke leaving the table and then coming back a moment later. Naruto too went up and came back again. She didn't care though. The crook of her arm was comfortable. She felt her heartbeat slow down, and she needed that. For so many shinobi to be ordered to assemble at the same place couldn't mean anything good. Talking stupid with her teammates could only gloss over that fact for so long.

Eventually the clock hanging above the wall broke out into a melody and her head jerked up. Her eyes widened as she noticed how late it was. They had half an hour at most until the meeting.

"We have to go!" she said.

Naruto wasn't even close to finished with his noodles. He also had a second cup boiling on the burner. Sasuke had unsealed his red armor and was putting it on.

"Relax, Sakura, we've got plenty of time," Naruto said.

She ignored him, concentrating on the problem she could fix. "Sasuke, the orders said 'uniform appearance.'"

Sasuke kept attaching his bracers.

"We can't just ignore our orders," Sakura said.

Naruto nodded, gesturing with his spoon at Sasuke. "She's right. Besides, we've been walking around in slacks and vest for the last seven months."

"I won't leave on a mission without my armor."

"Then seal it and take the scroll with you until we know what we're dealing with," Sakura said.

It took another five minutes for them to get ready, and though chaotic, Sakura found that she preferred this mood to the scramble for survival they had gone through during their rescue mission.

* * *

The place where the first task of the Chūnin Exams had been administered was one of the buildings in Konoha that had survived the invasion. The large sign fixed above the entrance still showed the engraved insignias of the various villages, though it hung askew now.

Two Chūnin were manning the entrance, opening the gate after taking a look at the blue scroll. The short tunnel Team Seven passed through soon opened up into a large hall. Hundreds of shinobi were mingling in small groups. Genin crowded around Chūnin or kept to themselves, while Chūnin banded together.

Only a few Jōnin were observing the twitchy crowd from the corners. That didn't surprise Naruto though. Hokage-jiji had taken the best shinobi on his march west, only leaving an emergency contingent in Konoha. For months now the streets had grown emptier each day as the Hokage advanced his forces.

"About twenty Jōnin," Sasuke said, leaning against a support pillar. "More Genin than Chūnin."

"Thought as much," Naruto said. "This can't be all we've got left in Konoha. But I bet it's a big part." He sighed. "Here's to hoping this is worth all the trouble."

"Not that it matters," Sakura said, patting her weapon pouch and the two scrolls dangling from her belt. "We go where we're deployed to."

"Which leaves the question of where he's sending us." Naruto let his eyes wander over the assembled shinobi. "Most here are Genin and rank somewhere between total beginners and barely adequate. And there's far too few Chūnin in comparison."

Sasuke crossed his arms. "I met at least half of the Chūnin at the hospital. They're weak. A few capable ones, but not enough to hold out against serious opposition. If the Hokage wants us to fight with them, he dealt us a bad hand."

"Still an asshole, eh?" The question was followed by a harsh bark of laughter. Naruto turned and found Kiba walking up to them. Kiba's hair had grown even shaggier. His right earlobe was pierced by a sharp incisor, and the mark of blood Akamaru had left on his cheek back in the forest had become a tattoo.

"Still haven't showered?" Sasuke replied.

"Well fuck you too, Uchiha."

Kiba laughed again and joined them at the support pillar, grinning through red-rimmed eyes. Much like the rest of the world Naruto hadn't seen much of him over the last months. From what Naruto had learned talking to Hinata, Kiba had taken to grieving for Akamaru in solitude. He would train on his own during the day, and once the Inuzuka dogs greeted the moon he went to the place where they had burned Akamaru. There he'd drink and tell stories to the wind until the sun came up again.

Inuzuka took only one familiar in life. No one in his clan hindered him as he honored his deceased partner the only way he knew how.

"Here with the others?" Naruto asked, clapping Kiba on the shoulder.

"Only me," Kiba said. "Whatever they're planning, it's nothing a Hyūga heiress should be part of. That's what her clan said, so you can stop looking at me like that, Sakura."

"Aburame?" Sasuke asked.

"No idea. We…don't see each other often anymore," Kiba said. "He's got his own problems I'd wager. Last I heard they still classified him as a reserve because of his arm…or lack of it."

Naruto shook his head. "He'd be a lot better than most folks here."

A group of Genin nearby heard him and shot him angry looks. He stared back, but before one of them could get too brave a light shone on the podium at the other end of the hall. Four people ascended the short stairs. Naruto had met all of them before, except the old, bandaged man.

Front and center stood Tsunade, the person responsible for Kakashi and who was also acting as the interim Hokage while Jiji was out and about, razing cities and taking names. Contact with her had been limited so far, but he hadn't heard too many bad things. Just that she forced Sasuke into wearing a coat, which was more of a bonus, really.

The two advisors shuffled onstage behind her. Naruto hadn't talked much with the man, but the old crone had given them their promotion back then. She had also almost skewered Sasuke because the Uchiha sported a superiority complex taller than Tanyū's walls.

"Joy," Sakura mumbled. "With our luck we'll be led by those two corpses."

"Shh." Naruto poked her side. "I'm sure they're capable. Remember what she did to Sasuke?"

"I won't forget that anytime soon."

"Once I have my eyes under control again you will," Sasuke said. He didn't sound too amused.

From the stage came a boom, interrupting them. Tsunade had sunken her heel into the wooden dais and was now pulling it out slowly. Even that far away Naruto could see her eyes blazing with anger. He stiffened up, as did his teammates and most other shinobi in the hall. They took an attentive position as Tsunade began talking, just like Kakashi had drilled it into them.

"Eight hours ago the territory around Takigakure was attacked by a force numbering in the thousands. At the same time Kusa—a longstanding ally—opened its borders for another army to fling itself against Fire Country. For now the attack was successfully repelled by Jiraiya of the Sannin, who kept the invading forces at bay at the Hanekawa River."

The silence following her statement blanketed the whole hall. Naruto chanced a glance at Sakura and saw that she had paled, her hands slightly shaking. The news had been expected. Not the particulars, of course. But that war stood written in the future history of the Elemental Nations had seemed inevitable for the longest time now. Naruto tried to calm himself, but even having known that this would happen eventually he didn't manage. His heart still beat faster, and he felt his palms grow sweaty.

"Most of you will have guessed already who challenged us so openly," Tsunade said. "Ōnoki the Fence-sitter has decided to take a stance, and behind him stands all of Earth Country. From this day onward we are, once more, officially at war with Iwa."

Before the hall could explode in a cacophony of voices Tsunade continued, calmer now, arms crossed behind her back. "This does not mean that you will be deployed toward the border. There has always been a possibility that Iwa would seize this opportunity. The Hokage and his council"—Tsunade gestured at the three people behind her—"have put plans in motion should Ōnoki's nature reveal itself.

"Effective immediately, Hokage-sama and his troops will march to defend our borders and support our allies in Takigakure. In the meanwhile, however, all of you will be deployed to Suna under the command of Councilor Danzō. There you will quell the last dissenters that still resist Konoha's terms."

Danzō stepped forward, breaking the momentary silence each time his cane met the wooden floor. Coming up next to Tsunade he let his gaze wander over the crowd before him. Naruto found he took his sweet time looking at them. When the silence started to become uncomfortable Danzo spoke at last.

"The Tree can grow everywhere," he said. Then, "We march at sunrise. Be ready to draw blood."

* * *

A day after the message of Ōnoki's attack had reached him Hiruzen was already past the closed-up borders of Ame and neared the Hanekawa River. His army, the best Konoha had to offer, moved under the command of Nara Shikaku and was lagging two days behind. They would march for hours but also rest at night, before once more moving toward the enemy. Quite unlike Hiruzen himself. An army too exhausted to fight was no army at all. He, however, had the stamina necessary to cross the whole continent and still be able to fight if he wished to. His troops would catch up sooner or later.

Rain was battering his helmet as he crossed the small body of water that fed into the Hanekawa River. In the distance he already saw the signs of war: swaths of ebony grasping at the clouds, twisting and merging into them; screams of the dying, the silence of the dead; all that in the backdrop of explosions occurring so fast and so often his ears started ringing and he wasn't even there yet. Jets of fire shot skyward, burning through the thick foliage miles ahead of him. Then came the waves called from the river around which the battle was being fought.

Hiruzen increased his pace and weaved through seals, obscuring himself from view. In the actual combat zone it was better to pass unnoticed until he reached Jiraiya. It took another half an hour until he came upon the camp that served as Konoha's base of operations. It lay two miles away from the river and was wedged between two smaller streams. Tents sprawled from one palisade-fortified riverbank to the next.

Dispelling the illusion Hiruzen walked up to the guard at the gate. After a quick verification the Jōnin led him through the city of tarpaulins, toward the command tent where Jiraiya would be.

They walked along a muddy path, and between the tents many resting shinobi stared at him as he passed, sketching as much a bow as their injuries allowed. From one tent came the smell of copper, pus, and waste; two corners farther he smelled soup. Moaning and shouting in one part, rough laughter in the next.

Hiruzen pulled his helmet deeper into his face. The few years had been far too short a time for peace.

"I will find my way from here," he said once the command tent was up head. The Jōnin bowed and vanished back into the maze of cloth around them.

Hiruzen rounded the last bend, and then he saw it: on a Jutsu-induced elevation a large circle of wooden posts held up enough fabric to clothe every woman in the Daimyo's court for years; some feet away from the entrance sat the mast with Konoha's flag; and on the free perimeter around the tent soldiers stood at attention, searching for unwanted intruders, their long spears piercing the smoke that came from the braziers beside them.

Hiruzen felt his facial muscles tighten. This was no shinobi foothold. These weren't even shinobi standing beside his flag. Each soldier wore a breastplate engraved with the Daimyo's sigil, and the farther Hiruzen extended his senses, the quicker the unsettling feeling in his stomach expanded.

The camp was huge, larger than any shinobi camp should be—certainly larger than it had looked—and mingling with the large chakra signatures of his shinobi were hundreds of other, much smaller signatures. There was an army in Jiraiya's stronghold. One that didn't belong.

Hiruzen strode up to the monstrosity of a tent ahead. The soldiers tried blocking his path, but a glare and a substantial amount of released chakra left them fumbling for their weapons as he went past.

He was met halfway to the entrance by Tenzō, who walked out of the tent at a brisk pace. Tenzō looked tired, the circles under his eyes much more pronounced than usual. His vest was ripped in a few places where metal plating shone through. Around his left arm was a blood-crusted bandage.

"Hokage-sama," Tenzō said. "It's good to see you in good health." He looked at the solders that were eying them. "I am sure you have questions."

"Explain to me why soldiers bearing the Fire Daimyo's sigil are camping with us."

Tenzō stood a bit straighter, all business. "Iwa's attack was accompanied by a large part of the Earth Daimyo's forces. Even with Jiraiya-sama's help we would have lost the battle had it not been for the company of soldiers stationed nearby. Jiraiya-sama called for their help, and now they are here with us while messengers inform the Daimyo of this new development."

In one sweep the unsettling feeling became something tangible.

"The Earth Daimyo has involved himself?" Hiruzen asked.

"It appears that way," Tenzō said.

The Mashunem Treaty, signed and ratified by the Daimyos and Kage after the first Great Shinobi war, signified a division of shinobi and normal troops in matters of war. The cost of lives had been catastrophic back when the idea first came up and conflicts had, at times, depopulated large swaths of land after shinobi involved themselves. Aside from a few simple assassinations the hidden villages kept out of the Daimyos' business in large scale wars, and vice versa.

During the invasion Orochimaru had struck the first blow against the treaty. Now Ōnoki followed suit. Had those two been working together from the start, then? Or was it a coincidence? Hiruzen shook his head as his mind paced through the options. There existed no coincidences like this. But that Orochimaru was truly the catalyst for Ōnoki's decision wasn't clear either. Hiruzen's spies would have informed him had there been any kind of connection between them. It was much likelier that Ōnoki just saw his chance and wanted to make sure that this time he wasn't going to be defeated by Konoha.

"We sent messengers to Suna and Konoha," Tenzō said. "They should have reached you, Hokage-sama."

"I was traveling alone," Hiruzen said. "Shikaku will be here in a day or two. Until then we keep the soldiers around. Is Jiraiya here?"

"Jiraiya-sama hasn't left the frontlines since the attack begun. The usual rotations are in place, but so far he has opted out each time." A brief moment of silent, then, "He's giving them one hell of a beating, Hokage-sama."

Hiruzen nodded. "I wouldn't expect any less. Who's inside that command tent?"

"General Akibar," Tenzō said, exasperation bleeding into his voice. "He is the commander of the Daimyo's forces in the north of Fire Country."

"A title he makes you hear quite often, I assume." Hiruzen lowered his voice so the soldiers couldn't hear them. "These generals are usually quite pompous."

"Will you meet him?" Tenzō asked.

"There is no time for that," Hiruzen said. "I need to speak with Jiraiya. From now until Shikaku arrives you will be in command."

"What about Jiraiya-sama?"

"His services are needed elsewhere."

Tenzō accepted the order without further questioning. He bowed and Hiruzen left the camp.

* * *

From the outer gate of the camp Hiruzen set out toward the Hanekawa River. Too much time had been lost accomplishing nothing so far, and the reason he needed Jiraiya in the first place was a time sensitive issue. Increasing his pace he hurtled past the trees. Now that he closed in on the actual frontlines the magnitude of Iwa's attack became more apparent.

The sounds of clashing metal vibrated in the air; technique after technique, ripples of chakra reached his senses. Hiruzen continued at full speed. Wounded soldiers passed by, soldiers to whom he would look like nothing but a gray and white blur.

With leap he cleared the tree line and landed in a crouch. Corpses were strewn all along the riverbank. Some floated in the water; others found themselves in a state of in between, the currents snatching at them while shrubbery and branches kept them back.

On the river and the shore shinobi and soldiers from both sides clashed in a mess of blood and violence. For a moment Hiruzen's breath hitched. The second passed and the brief nostalgia washed off him.

Jiraiya wasn't there, and the Konoha shinobi were being forced away from the riverbank and into the forest. Until Shikaku arrived Iwa's numerical advantage would make holding this position difficult. Hiruzen wished to help his men, but finding Jiraiya came first. He sighed and moved on. This was but one site of a battlefield spanning miles, after all.

He sped from site to site, shooting random techniques into the enemy rows as he passed. This was all the help he could give right now, and at the seventh larger battle place—miles away from the camp and dominated by Iwa—he found his student.

Jiraiya was squatting amidst foes, raging against the tides of incoming shinobi and soldiers. His elongated hair became a trap for everyone close by. Scattered around him were three wounded battle toads following his example, and behind him flames were licking at the surface of an enormous swamp.

There was no Konoha-nin besides Jiraiya left though—this area of the river was lost.

Hiruzen glared at the masses of Iwa-nin surrounding Jiraiya. For now they could have this victory—Ōnoki could feast on the knowledge that his troops took territory directly from under the feet of a Sannin—but once Shikaku arrived the tides would turn.

It would become a long and cruel slog, but Konoha wouldn't be the one to perish in this crucible.

His doubts resolved he sent a pulse of chakra through the ground. He leaped, throwing every kunai in his holster at the Iwa-nin around Jiraiya, and began weaving through hand seals.

Attuned to Hiruzen's chakra Jiraiya reacted. He threw himself to the ground, covering his back with a thick coat of hair. The kunai multiplied and tore through the air above him. Most Iwa-nin managed to dodge in time, but by then Hiruzen was already beside Jiraiya, leaving with him before anyone had a chance to react.

The shunshin took both of them away from the battle, to a large branch.

Jiraiya's hair shortened to its normal length. "Not that I'm not glad to see you," Jiraiya said, face red, breath going heavy, "but I had things under control."

"You were the last one."

Jiraiya seemed surprised by that. "I was?" He popped his neck. "Well, as I said, I had it under control. No sweat, old man. Now let's get back down there and kick them back to Iwa."

"You did good, Jiraiya—"

"You're making me blush."

"—but I need you elsewhere."

Jiraiya blinked. Then his face hardened. "Have you seen what's happening, old man? They're overrunning us. If I leave now, they'll be in Konoha in a few days tops."

"They will drive us back only momentarily," Hiruzen said. "You should know by now that the Tree will never be uprooted. Not when we don't allow it to."

Jiraiya snorted in disdain. "That's some pretty talk, sensei. But let's stay with your image there. This is one earthquake we won't survive if you take away the biggest root keeping the 'Tree' in place."

"Shikaku is coming. They will have to hold out for that long."

"Well," Jiraiya said, "why can't we hold out with them, then? I've seen dozens of our shinobi die in the last hours. If we go now there might not be anything left for Shikaku to find. That's no good, sensei."

 _And that's the problem, isn't it, Jiraiya? Too much death that came far too soon. But I've no time to argue with you now. Your mission is more important than this frontline._

"You'll accompany me to our new destination, Jiraiya. That's an order."

Jiraiya's eyes widened. Then he angrily wiped the blood off his face.

"As you wish, Hokage-sama."

Hiruzen nodded curtly and began moving north-east. It had been more than thirty years since he last issued a direct command to his student. Usually they understood each other, one offering hints, the other acting on them. Not today it seemed.

 _Have faith in Konoha, Jiraiya. She has yet to fail us_.

* * *

 **AN:** That's it for the first chapter. Hope you had you fun! As always, I'm grateful for any kind of feedback you deem me worthy of. My sincere thanks to the DLP crew for assisting me in the polishing.


	2. Straight II

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

 **AN:** I found out that someone made a TVTropes page for the story, which is amazing and covers Blood Wings as well as Lines in the Sand. So, whoever you are, Leid and Komodo Classic, thanks. I appreciate the effort.

* * *

 **Lines in the Sand**

 **Straight – II**

* * *

 _It's not selective, you know? It hits everything._

* * *

As the sand particles stopped obscuring the horizon and laid bare the first sign of Suna, Sakura's heart jumped. Then the dune she was walking on curved downward, and the view ahead vanished again behind a mountain of ocher. Clad in the same green and black uniform as every other shinobi around her, she couldn't be more than a grain of sand in the army Danzō led to the heart of Wind Country. She wasn't sure if she liked it, but the thought of so many shinobi behind her was comforting in a sense. Seven months ago she'd have liked to have all of them with her.

Beside her Naruto filled Sasuke's flask with a water Jutsu. Sasuke thanked him with a clipped nod, then guzzled the water down. Heat pressed on them from above. They were in the upper end of the army.

"Is it that much harder?" Sakura asked Naruto. He was frowning at the half-filled flask in Sasuke's hand.

"It's definitely not easier," Naruto said. "I understand that I need more chakra in a place like this, but it's also control. Or something else I'm not getting." He craned his neck to glare at the sun. "River Country was easier. I didn't have to deal with this then."

"You had mosquitos there," Sasuke said.

"Desert's way worse," Naruto said. "I can kill the little buggers"—he swiped at an imaginary mosquito—"but I dare you to try and kill all this sand." To make his point he stamped on the ground, sending up a spray of dust.

"Sand isn't alive," Sasuke said. "Of course you can't kill it."

"Exactly my point, thanks for making it."

There was a short lull of silence as the long worm that was Konoha's army winded farther along the dunes toward Suna. For a moment Sakura wondered whether Sasuke would leave it at that, then she saw him crouch down and pick up a handful of sand. She didn't know what he planned to do with it as he presented it to Naruto in his cupped palms, but she knew whatever it was, he was staying true to himself.

Naruto narrowed his eyes. "You brought me more sand. Either you want me to hate you, or you think I'm some kind of desert god and this is supposed to be an offering…which is still insulting because it's fucking sand."

Sakura bit her lip to keep from laughing, thankful though for Sasuke's attempt to cheer up Naruto. She remembered the first and last time she'd seen Naruto completely pissed. They'd all been frightfully drunk, and he had told them how he still wanted to become the Hokage, how control was the most important part to him. Not control of others, but of himself. And if the hat provided him with an illusion that made him believe he was in control, then he'd hold out against his burden. It's always been about belief in himself.

At least he could still do _some_ things with water. Not much, but having it rendered completely ineffectual would have been far worse.

Immense heat washed over Sakura. She found the source in Sasuke's palms. Chūnin nearby were turning their heads and Sakura positioned herself so that they didn't have a good view on him. Heat wasn't well-liked around here, certainly not among shinobi who had been marching for some time now.

Turning back she flinched as the waves of heat slammed into her face. Inside Sasuke's palms, flames were swallowing up all the sand. They licked at his fingers, threatening to break out. He was keeping them contained though, the orange-red of the fire changing to a violet-white. It began turning blue, heat rising even higher, and Sasuke was staring into the flames with a sort of manic concentration. Sakura kicked his shin. Sasuke's head jerked up, the fire dying out.

"What the hell?" she whispered. It was the most eloquent she could be while also smiling at the suspicious shinobi looking their way.

"You're such an attention whore," Naruto told him, not bothering to keep his voice low. "Unbelievable."

"It wasn't for attention," Sasuke said.

"Did it work at least?" Sakura asked.

"Work?" Naruto slowed his walk. "What worked?"

There was the barest hint of a twitch at the Sasuke's lips. It spoke of restrained mirth, a fair bit of superiority, and also immeasurable quantities of condescension not aiming to hurt. Sasuke opened his palms, showing them to Naruto. The sand was gone. In its place lay a misshapen ball of glass.

"An offering to the desert god," Sasuke said, putting the piece of glass in Naruto's hand, then increasing his pace again.

"May your reign be long and prosperous," Sakura added.

"You have far too much time on your hands," Naruto said.

Sakura clapped Naruto's shoulder as she went past him, catching up to Sasuke. "Looks like Sasuke _can_ kill sand."

She couldn't see his face, but she could imagine it.

"That's not fair," Naruto said, coming up beside her. "He cheated. You can't kill sand—those were his own damn words."

Sasuke grunted. "Get over it."

They had passed many of the other groups around them and were walking among the vanguard. Councilor Danzō wasn't far away. If Sakura strained her eyes she could see him leading the procession. Much as his general presence discomfited her—for reasons she couldn't quite name—Danzō didn't hide behind his army. He was the tip of the spear, no shinobi in front of or beside him.

How a crippled man could move that fast was another matter altogether.

With some effort Team Seven won the uphill battle against another dune. Arriving on the apex of the dune's ridge, Sakura joined her teammates, and her breath caught.

Before her lay the Valley of Dust. On the horizon, behind the valley, the Sweeping Mountains enclosed Suna, making the village look like a clump of sand clutched in the hand of a brown giant.

She let her gaze sweep over the valley and the hidden village, thinking that it must have been beautiful once, before Konoha.

The two towers around the main gate were heaps of rubble, having collapsed under the assault, their remains blocking the usual way into the village. Far left of the gate, half a mile away from Suna's defensive structures, a malformed wall stood tall like a dark monument. Curious what it's for, she narrowed her eyes and saw that it was made of massive, black shards.

"What the hell is that?" Naruto asked.

"I've no idea," Sakura said. "Sasuke?"

"We'll find out soon enough," Sasuke said.

By now the stragglers of the army were arriving at the last dune. Danzō exchanged words with a shinobi beside him. Sakura looked closer and saw that it was Kotetsu, bandage across the nose and spiky black hair fanning out to his shoulders. He unsealed his mace and dislodged the large conch head. He blew into the shell. The horn sounded twice on a harsh and deep note: once to set the army in motion again; a second time, much longer, to alert the Konoha shinobi inside Suna and all of the village's citizens that they were coming.

Among the first groups, Team Seven began their descent down the dune.

"That's pretty badass," Naruto said.

"We're shinobi," Sasuke said. "Announcing ourselves is the opposite of what we do."

Sakura nodded. Every teacher, from Iruka to Kakashi to Jiraiya, had drilled them in approaching their targets through stealth. She looked at the back of Councilor Danzō, who was walking a few paces in front of them.

"He's confident at least," Sakura murmured.

"He better be," Naruto said. "But he's not half bad. Haven't you noticed that we're all wearing the same?"

"Hard not to," Sasuke said.

Frowning Sakura looked at the uniform black slacks and the dark green vests around them. Black and green, the lot of them. "We look the same," she said, glancing at her vest. "But we're not, are we?

Naruto nudged her shoulder, nodding at Kiba, who was walking a few groups to the side. "We're Chūnin," he said, thumping his vest, "but what about Kiba? He's still a Genin. Look at him. He's like a botched Henge where everything but the head fits."

"If we're not in the bingo book, Suna doesn't know how we're ranked," Sasuke said.

"So," Sakura said, "for all they know this isn't a bunch of reserves, but a full-fledged army of competent Chūnin."

Naruto nodded sagely. "Can't make it all Jōnin, who'd believe that anyway? But Chūnin is easy to swallow. Konoha's the strongest of the Five. They could always pull something like that out of their ass. And this army"—Naruto made a sweeping gesture with his hand—"isn't hiding, because how would we even hide it in an open field? Jōnin might be able to, but us?"

"You're making sense," Sasuke said. He sounded surprised. Then he began massaging his forehead. "I'm getting a headache trying to reconcile your words with who you are."

Naruto flipped him off, laughing. "Fuck you, too, asshole. But anyway, that's my point. This whole thing is an exercise in…what do you call it?"

"Subterfuge," Sakura offered.

"Right. This whole thing is an exercise in subterfuge. Might as well shout it to the world: We're strong! We don't need to hide!" Naruto pounded his chest twice. "Nothing to lose by blowing that giant shell."

While Naruto finished his explanation the army was passing the large wall Sakura had dubbed a monument earlier, and shortly after arrived in front of Suna, where the extent of Konoha's attack became even more apparent. From the right side of the impassable gate, up to the mountains that served as a natural border, only bits and pieces of the wall had been left standing, looking like spikes growing out of the sand. Scores of tents had been wedged between the large breaches that Konoha had punched into the wall, expanding from there outward into the valley.

Danzō led the army alongside the destroyed wall and toward the entrance of this village of tents where, at each pole, Konoha's sigil danced in the wind. Sakura only got a short glimpse through the gaps in the wall, seeing the ruins of the houses immediately next to it. Then she was ushered forward by her teammates, who themselves had been urged on by the shinobi behind them.

"Let's get a bit closer," she said.

They slipped through the rows, muttering apologies to the people they shoved aside, until they were so far in front they could hear and see Danzō clearly. As the councilor neared the village, a stream of shinobi—fifty, sixty at most—left it and took formation in an orderly fashion. Sakura recognized a few of them as experienced Chūnin she had seen in Konoha, but also saw a substantial amount of Jōnin vests.

One Jōnin stepped out of the formation to meet Danzō. He was tall, had short-cropped hair and straight shoulders.

"Right on time, Councilor Danzō," he said. "The command is yours."

"Nara Hideki," Danzō said. "Hiruzen made a good choice. Will your men belong to my command?"

"Afraid not, Councilor. Once you're settled in we are to catch up with the main forces. Nara-san wants us with the bulk of the troops as soon as possible."

"How much of the original force will remain here?"

Hideki handed Danzō a red-lined scroll. "You'll find detailed information in there. The current situation isn't too bad."

Sakura thought that Danzō seemed almost wistful as he stared at the group of Jōnin. Then he thumped his cane on the ground. "Consider us settled in, Nara-san. The Tree thanks you for your service."

"May it grow stronger each day," Hideki said. Then he whistled, and the group of veterans moved out toward the desert.

* * *

For hours Jiraiya had followed Hiruzen at a pace that would break most shinobi. Their way had led them through the northern parts of Fire Country, right up to the Land of Hot Springs. Now they were past even that stretch of land, having left the forest behind, finding their way to the shore of the Haran Bay.

More than their rushed departure from the battlefield it was this destination that convinced Jiraiya the old man had some big plans up his sleeves. Like his godson, Jiraiya had slept through most of the geography parts in the academy, but close to forty years of traveling the world had given him enough experience to recognize certain areas and thus future trouble when it came knocking at his door.

Jiraiya stood on the beach, water lapping at his feet, the air tasting of salt. Seagulls circled overhead, bigger and far more aggressive than Fire Country's. To the north, at the farthest reach of the Haran Bay, silhouettes of large towers were visible. Overcast by thick, rolling clouds and surrounded by light fog, they were the specters of protection that lined the coast of Lightning Country. Equidistant, if he were to look past the small islands scattered in the south of the bay, he'd see the Kaizoku Sea, domain of Water Country.

 _I don't like this, old man. I don't like this at all_.

They watched the waves for a minute, both silent. Miles away a catamaran was drifting on the water. People small as dots moved about on top of it. They were a patrol to keep bandits from fixing the cliffs with oil lamps and luring traders to their death once the fog grew thicker again. He'd very much like to be on that ship now. The islands farther down had incredible sake and even better women.

"Tell me what you want from me," Jiraiya said, watching the catamaran grow smaller as it turned away.

"Can't you guess?"

Jiraiya broke his gaze away from the patrol. "I want to hear it from you. No one but the Hokage can give me this order. If you think I'll do this on a guess…well, think again."

"If that is your wish," Hiruzen said. "Infiltrate them and make sure they are looking at each other more than at us."

"They do that already," Jiraiya said. "Their relationship is almost as strained as ours with Iwa. And we're at war with Iwa."

 _Don't make me do it, old man_ , Jiraiya thought. He felt a tendril of anxiety wind through his body, because for all his idealism he knew he wouldn't deny his Hokage. That when the chips were down he'd stand with Konoha, despite all his misgivings. _Please, not again_. _There must be another way_.

"Is it really?" Hiruzen said. "Or is it a ruse and both are waiting to swallow us whole when we're at our weakest? I don't know which of those options is the truth, Jiraiya. But I know that should even one of them decide to get involved in this war—involved and fighting on a side not ours—we will lose."

"It's just a hypothetical," Jiraiya said. "You're getting too paranoid." He tried to smile but couldn't. It was a falsehood and both knew it. The last war had demanded for a similar mission, and Jiraiya had advanced the same argument back then. But the old man hadn't been too paranoid. The threat had been quite real.

Jiraiya continued, "Are you sure about this? Only two of the Great Five are at war right now. Suna's already broken. If I do this, chances are the other two will get involved. They haven't even done anything yet. Can you stomach that?"

"It's not a matter of being sure, Jiraiya." Hiruzen's face was lined with age. He looked at the sea, hands crossed behind his back. "There is nothing I am not willing to stomach for the village. If that is what you're asking."

"Wouldn't a few incidents be enough? Just adding a bit of tension so they keep suspecting each other."

"They already are suspicious of each other. The only way to make sure they keep away from us while we're fighting Iwa is to make sure that they have to fight their own wars."

"So that's my order?"

"That is your order."

"Brokering war, then," Jiraiya said darkly. "For how long?"

Hiruzen turned to Jiraiya, wearing a look Jiraiya had learned to hate. Somber, yet pitying. At the same time wishing to do better by his student, but also staying hard and unyielding no matter the argument. The face of a Hokage that only showed itself during wartime. Each time, when peace had come, Jiraiya would forget about it, because the old man made it so easy to forget. Until the next war came rolling around, that was.

"They must not reconcile before we are victorious," Hiruzen said.

"You're talking years. What about my network? What about _them_? They're coming, and soon. You've talked with Itachi, damn it. Do you honestly think they'll sit still with all this going on?"

"Don't you think I know that?" Hiruzen said. "Do you think I want you on this mission? If someone else could do it we wouldn't be having this conversation. But there is only you, Jiraiya. I have no other shinobi with the abilities to fool not one but two nations at once. I wish it weren't so, but I can't change reality."

Jiraiya listened, but there was an odd buzz in his head. He knew he'd do it. He knew it and felt revulsion. It didn't matter how frustrated the old man sounded. He'd do it, but actions like this were exactly the reason why he'd left Konoha to wander the world. Being the old man's student had long since become a burden.

Mechanically he unsealed an empty scroll and scribbled quick notes onto it.

"Here," he said, throwing Hiruzen the scroll. "Give this to Inoichi. He'll know what to do."

Hiruzen caught the scroll. "I'm sorry, Jiraiya."

Jiraiya popped his neck and turned to walk away. "No sweat. It's what I'm here for, right? Pity that Orochimaru's isn't with us anymore—this'd be the perfect mission for him. He's always been good at creating chaos."

"Jiraiya…"

Once more, Jiraiya told himself, insides clenching. Once more, and maybe this would be the last time.

"See you later, old man. Make sure my godson stays safe."

* * *

The beaker hit the crate with a dull noise. When a tanned hand lifted the beaker Naruto's focus sharpened. Then the dice became visible in the sunlight, the spell broke, and he groaned. Three shinobi around him did the same.

"Two sixes, a twelve—pay up, suckers!"

The woman sitting on the upturned barrel opposite of Naruto slapped the crate with her palm. Three towers of stacked coins collapsed in the middle. Shooting the round a triumphant look she leaned forward to collect her reward, and Naruto's eyes were drawn to something else entirely. She was a pretty lady. Tanned skin, green eyes, short black hair. She made losing somewhat bearable.

"Someday I'll find out how you're doing this," Naruto said.

The Chūnin right next to him took a swig from his flask and threw an arm around Naruto's shoulder. They all stunk of sweat, some more than others. He stunk of booze, too, though.

"Give it up," the man said. "She's got the devil on her side."

"I wouldn't say devil," the woman said, grinning. "You're just not good enough."

"You'll lose eventually."

"We'll see."

Then the shinobi began calling out their numbers again, stacking new coins in the middle.

"Oi, Uzumaki," the woman said. "Stop sleeping. What's your number?"

"I'm out for today," Naruto said, standing up. He'd played enough for one day. Cards weren't the problem, but dice brought him no luck. They never fell the way he wanted them to, and Team Seven's patrol would start soon anyway.

"Scared?" the woman said. "Well, can't fault you for that. It's the sensible decision. If I were you I'd run too." She waved her hand airily. "You just can't stand against the goddess of dice."

"Please," Naruto said, "one win doesn't make you a god."

"It makes me better than you, though."

Laughing Naruto walked out of the circle around the crate. Going by he picked up some sand and sprinkled it over her hair.

"Uzumaki!"

He was already around the corner and near the smith's tent when the laughter of the men grew quieter and began mixing with the sound of hammers hitting anvils, barking dogs, and the chatter an army this size produced.

Eight weeks and counting they had been stationed in and around Suna now, while Danzō tried to get an overview of the situation and planned out his moves. That's the word going around campfires, at least. The bulk of the troops wouldn't set out anytime soon, not until the resistance's position had been identified; and Senyaku, the man that had led Suna during the invasion, proved to be quite an obstacle, even after the village's unconditional surrender.

The two months had gone by in a languid fashion. The workload was light, and as long as Danzō didn't emerge from his endless meetings with other leading officials nothing save an attack would change that.

Things were good though. Not perfect, but they never were. Most of the shinobi here were Genin, and many of them had fought right beside Team Seven during the invasion, or had heard of them at least. He loved his team, but it was refreshing to know that they weren't the only people in the camp that liked him.

Reaching a green tent, the fabric rolled up on one side, Naruto found Sasuke sitting on a three-legged stool, lazily checking off something on a chart.

Sasuke noticed him and said, "Give me a second," before turning to the man on the cot beside him, hands green.

"You've no health problems," Sasuke said after a while. "Find someone else to bother."

"Listen, you little shit"—the man seized Sasuke's white coat—"I'll tell your damn supervisor if you don't treat me right now. I'm sick. Don't believe me? Well, watch out! This'll be your last time here."

Sasuke slapped the hands from his coat and glared back. "Get out."

The man rose with a groan and some fake effort. Naruto suppressed his laughter when Sasuke rolled his eyes. He looked annoyed enough to help the guy leave with a kick to the head. Five seconds of more grumbling, then the man was gone.

"Can he do that?" Naruto said. "Telling our supervisor."

Sasuke shrugged. "Probably. He's not going to. It's been his third time here."

"He came back after two failures?"

Sasuke slid out of his coat and took his vest from the rack at the far side of the tent. "I gave him a sick note the last two times."

"Couldn't be bothered to deal with him?" Naruto laughed. "Then why the fuss now?"

"He's even more of a moron than you. If he calls in sick that often he's making people suspicious."

"I'll let that comment slide in favor of laughing at you for getting roped into this in the first place."

"I still owe Sakura for that."

"She just gave a fair assessment of our abilities."

"I'm the only one saddled with more work." Sasuke checked off a box on a chart hammered to a post, then they left the tent.

"Maybe you'll get lucky and the guy reports you," Naruto said.

Sasuke arched an eyebrow. "Lucky?"

"If you're doing a shit job they might kick you out. You wouldn't have to keep healing idiots."

"If only. All they'd do is lecture me and strike off some pay."

They made their way through the camp, passing by a crowd of shinobi standing around a dugout pit, two scorpions circling each other inside. Naruto was about to put a few coins on the red-striped scorpion, but Sasuke pulled him away. The coins ended up in the hand of a shinobi selling sticks of roasted mice. The crust was oily and chewy, and the meat tasted like snake. Not too bad, all things considered.

They made it out of the camp's inner circle, moving past thinning rows of tents. Until, at the outmost edge of the camp, they closed in on a gray patchwork tent fastened to a dead tree. Sewing their three separate tents together Sakura had put her special kunoichi classes to good use at last. Then she had chased them through the tent for mentioning it.

Pushing the flap aside Naruto poked his head inside and found Sakura asleep on her bedroll.

"You think she found something?" he said quietly, crouching next to her. Sakura's face was peaceful, lips parting slightly as she breathed.

Sasuke bunched up his white coat and threw it on a pile of dirty clothes that grew larger by the day. "Doubtful. She's been at this for a while now."

Naruto sighed. For the last two months Sakura had used her time to make enquiries about her mother's death, who had perished on a trading mission to Suna. So far she'd had no luck though. There weren't many people inside the village willing to talk to her. Being a Konoha-nin carried quite the stigma in these parts.

Still, every day she'd get up earlier than both Sasuke and him, organizing a quick breakfast for herself, leaving them a share, then making for the inner city in the hope to find a lead.

Naruto swept a strand of pink hair falling in her face to the side. He hoped she'd find her answer soon.

Sakura's eyes fluttered open at the touch. She looked confused for a second, then smiled sleepily.

"Time already?" she said, stretching her arms, yawning.

"Sun's about to go down," Naruto said. "Nightshift today."

"Right," Sakura said, rising from the bedroll. "I'll be ready in a minute."

As Sakura was gearing up, Naruto contemplated the ever-growing pile of dirty laundry and the half-filled barrel of water next to it.

"It's not going to shrink by looking," Sasuke said.

"Shut it, you two-bit doctor."

Sasuke was amused, Naruto not so much. Naruto knew that, as the self-proclaimed master of water, the barrel and the laundry were his responsibility. That was the deal they had made at the start, none of them having warmed to the idea of using the washing tents provided in the camp.

Sasuke and Sakura called it "training his affinity." He hated that expression with a passion.

Once Sakura was ready Naruto sealed the tent with a rudimentary seal that would alert him should someone cross the perimeter. Laughable as it sounded, during the months of teaching he'd been an official member of the academy's faculty, which had provided him with access to some interesting materials. Iruka himself liked to dabble in Fuinjutsu from time to time. He had been happy to help Naruto acquire a better understanding. Though the process had been slow, and Iruka had put far too much focus on the basics.

Team Seven's patrol took them through the gaps in Suna's wall where they checked in with a Chūnin, then went into the village. The part of Suna closest to the wall showed the heaviest signs of damage. It was littered with ruins, none of them being rebuilt—Konoha-nin so close were rather discouraging. Of the large, balloon-shaped buildings one had remained. The rest was recognizable only in their foundation.

They passed through the desolate area in a fast-paced walk. Naruto eyed the few souls scurrying through the rubble, pushing away wooden beams and stones in the hope of finding something valuable that might help them survive. They'd been doing that for a while now. The brave souls anyway, or the desperate ones. Usually they just stiffened up when they noticed Konoha-nin.

In West Suna the scenery changed, the buildings looking robust and whole again. Today Team Seven kept to the streets, but Naruto had looked at the view from an intact three-storey house before. The Shard Wall outside of Suna was clear to see, even at night, when the reflection of the moon shimmered on its black surface.

By now he had learned where it came from. The few Chūnin Jiji had left Danzō were eager to talk once they had some sake. They were excited more than anything else and couldn't believe they were alive at all.

During the short-lived siege, Suna's defenders had played their last card, loosening a mechanism that sent a sandslide of massive proportion rolling down the Sweeping Mountains. No matter the strength of an army, that amount of sand would've killed anyone. Panic was abound, or so the story went, and then the Hokage arrived.

The result now towered over Suna, black, shard-like where the sand had broken through, and smooth to the touch.

Even if it weren't for the physical proof, Naruto would've believed the story. From personal experience he knew that Jiji had his own brand of appearing exactly when he was needed.

Team Seven went on in silence, each of them chasing after their own thoughts. This part of Suna was prettier, but Naruto disliked patrolling it. Citizens vacated the street when they came close, bringing as much distance between themselves and Team Seven as they could. Some were looking out the windows, pushing the shutters aside to shoot them a disdainful glare, scurrying away afterward, anxious to have been noticed.

The sun was almost gone now, the sky a shade of violet. A group of children ran through the street ahead, chasing each other with wooden kunai. One of the boys hollered a war cry, storming at a girl, throwing his toy shuriken. She awkwardly deflected them under the appreciative noise of her friends. Naruto couldn't help correcting her form in his mind when the last shuriken made it through her defense, bumped off her shoulder, and dropped to the road.

The girl turned and moved to pick it up, hazel eyes falling on Team Seven. She froze, muttered a sharp word in a thick Suna accent, and the other children grew rigid beside her, eyes fixing on Team Seven as well.

Naruto smiled as he walked by, hoping to ease them as the girl reached for the toy. Once she had it in her hand though the whole group shot off in a sprint, as if a hidden signal had been given, losing themselves in the city.

He stared after them. Beside him Sasuke and Sakura said nothing. The patrol went on.

A few blocks down the city and toward the market district Sakura slowed and eyed the stores around them, most boarded up. The rare open ones had blue fabric hanging from the top of the entrance. Naruto had seen this before. In Suna they color coded a lot—blue for merchants, green for public baths and schools, red for flesh.

"You know," Sakura said, "Gaara told me there's plants in the desert."

"Haven't seen any on the way," Naruto said, pausing in front of a store. "Maybe there's a book about it? I want a map, so I've to find a store anyway."

"A map?" Sasuke asked.

"Komon told me about Wind Country," Naruto said. "'There's a lot to see if you know where to look.' His words."

"Should we be worried that you can quote that pig?" Sakura asked.

Naruto shrugged. The fat advisor at the Daimyo's court was a disgusting creature all right. "It's from when he still thought we're buddies. Might as well use the knowledge."

"I doubt he meant the sights you've in mind," Sasuke said.

"I'm not looking for the places he mentioned," Naruto said. "It's the sentiment that counts. 'Know where to look.' Hell, I don't know where to look. But if I have a map that changes. It's not like we discussed this place at the academy."

Sasuke grunted. "Even if we had, you wouldn't have noticed."

"Naruto's right though," Sakura said, wearing a contemplative look. "We need a better overview of Wind Country. The academy didn't teach much more than the location of Suna, the Sweeping Mountains, and Sukoru. That's not nearly enough for our purpose here."

"Sukoru?" Naruto said.

"Capital of Wind Country," Sasuke said.

"Joy. The Tanyū of the desert."

"Something like that, yes," Sakura said. "I like the idea."

They searched the stores with the blue-clothed entrances, browsed the wares, and found one selling maps and books once they went farther down the market and toward the Shimaz District, where Suna's academy lay.

Naruto went in, fully expecting to haggle with the shopkeeper, but that wasn't necessary. The man cowered against the wall behind his cash register. He seemed surprised to get any money at all. Naruto left the store with a heavy feeling in his gut and a detailed map of Wind Country in his pockets.

Team Seven continued their patrol and was about to turn another corner, when a shriek caught their attention. They leaped onto a damaged roof, half of it crumbled, and sped to the source.

"The kids," Naruto said, seeing the children with the wooden toys down in the street.

"Three Chūnin," Sakura said, nodding at the shinobi in front of them.

Naruto's felt his muscles tighten. He'd expected this sooner or later. There was a lot of anger to go around.

One Chūnin had the girl by the sleeve and was holding her up in the air, bellowing in her face. "Playing shinobi, eh? You like being a Suna shinobi? Like being good at killing friends and family as the others? Well, not today, you little shit. I'll teach you—"

"Let her go!" The boy who had earlier barraged the girl with toy shuriken threw himself forward, but the man slapped him into a stack of crates.

"Akashi!" the girl cried out.

Naruto closed his eyes, inhaling, flexing his fingers.

Sakura moved first.

In a blur she appeared between the Chūnin and the children. "Is there a problem here?"

Sasuke and Naruto were with her in the street a second later.

The Chūnin spat on the ground. "Instilling discipline. Can't have them Suna kids be learning how to fight."

"I can see your problem if that's how you learned fighting." Sasuke's expression wasn't friendly.

The man let out a belly laugh; it was a deep, ugly sound. "Suna-lovers, eh? There's a fair bit of you running around here."

"Stop it," Naruto said.

Then the man kicked at the girl on the ground. Sasuke was in front of her in an instant, sword rammed in the ground, stopping the Chūnin's foot cold. The man staggered back. Naruto hammered his fist into his side, sending him crashing into the wall of a house. When Naruto turned around the other two Chūnin were unconscious already, Sakura standing beside them.

Naruto crouched in front of the girl, offering his hand to help her up. "It's alright," he said. "They won't do anything."

Before she could react, the boy jumped at them from the crates, slapping Naruto's hand away. He screamed, "Run, Aiwa!" and like a skittish colt she reacted to the barest hint of noise, following the order. Naruto evaded a kick to the shin, then watched both of them run away the second time that day.

"This isn't good," Sasuke said, nudging the unconscious body of the Chūnin closest to him with his foot.

Sakura sighed. "You can say that again. Why is it always us?"

Naruto shook his head. "Let's get back to camp. We'll deposit these guys on the way."

 _Maybe they'll have amnesia or something. That would be really helpful_.

* * *

Sasuke expected their supervisor to call for them before the night was over, and as usual he was right. Two hours after they had deposited the three unconscious Chūnin at a dumpster near the medical tent the authorities came calling.

"Uchiha, Haruno, Uzumaki," the Genin before their tent said, "Councilor Danzō wants you at Command."

Sasuke hadn't even had time to change his expression when the Genin already flinched back. Sasuke turned and saw Naruto standing behind him, stone-faced, glaring straight ahead. He really got too excited at times.

' _You think he'll punish us?_ ' Naruto signed, following the Genin through the camp.

' _It's possible_ ,' Sakura signed. ' _I'm curious actually. We never met the man, have we?_ '

' _Might have been better to meet him under different circumstances._ ' Sasuke glanced around. For now none of the shinobi they passed shot them angry looks. Who knew how long that would last?

When they arrived at Command their shadow left them with a relieved sigh. For a moment Sasuke stood before the large tent, a brief hesitation gripping him. Then he walked past the two silent Chūnin guarding the entrance and pushed the flap away, Naruto and Sakura right behind him.

The tent was spacious and bare. Maps of different sizes lay unfurled on a large table in the middle, clay figurines of leaves scattered across them. Heat filled the tent and Sasuke's eyes were drawn to the embers in two heavy braziers standing to one side. It was the absence of any bothersome smells—booze, grease, sweat—that made it stand out.

Sasuke focused on the two shinobi standing by the braziers, flames chasing shadows across their faces.

The first was a heavy-set, bald Chūnin: their current supervisor. Taki—Takam—well, something like that. Sasuke had never bothered to learn his name. They didn't know how strong Taki was, but Sakura estimated the size of his chakra pool to be around her own—which wasn't an easy accomplishment by now, even for a Chūnin. That at least had earned him a cautious amount of respect from Team Seven.

Danzō, however, was much more interesting, and Sasuke cursed his Sharingan for not working properly. He had the feeling that Danzō was someone worth taking in all the details of. A lone eye looked at them from the half-bandaged face. Similar to Kakashi, but far less prone to showing emotion. Deep scars littered the stretch of face that could be seen.

 _Combat experience, and not just a little._

Even if crippled, the man made Sasuke wary. It was in the way he moved—slow, but with a precision that made each step seem controlled.

"They will no longer be under your command, Takahashi-san," Danzō said to the Chūnin. "I will send you a new group."

"I can live with that. I need no crazy folk backstabbing our guys. Thank you, Danzō-sama."

Takahashi didn't even grace Team Seven with another look and marched right out the tent, leaving them alone with Danzō. Which wasn't the worst development, Sasuke thought. The man obviously stood against what they did, and that could only mean trouble if he stayed in a position of power over them. His hurtful words, and they stabbed Sasuke right in his heart, would be forgotten in time.

"I already questioned everyone else involved in this matter," Danzō said. "Have you assaulted three Chūnin this evening?"

Stepping forward Naruto said, "We have, but—"

Danzō's cane hit the table with a loud smack. Despite the violent reaction, however, Danzō looked at them as if he'd been born without emotions. He lifted the cane off the table, controlled, as if he hadn't just lashed out with it. His face didn't even twitch. Sasuke had to applaud that, if nothing else. The appreciation soon gave way again to the overpowering instinct that this man wasn't a good enemy to have.

"Do you know the word Order, Uzumaki Naruto?"

In an entirely sensible anticipation of his teammate's psychological mindset, Sasuke's index finger twitched once. Naruto kept silent. Whether Danzō had noticed the exchange wasn't clear, though Sasuke expected it.

Danzō stepped forward until he was eye to eye with Naruto. "Order," he continued, "is what must be upheld at all times if we're to win this war."

When Naruto stayed quiet Danzō turned to Sakura. "Do you know the word Necessity, Haruno Sakura?"

She, too, remained silent. Sasuke gave her credit for not blinking as Danzō seemed to stare directly into her soul.

"It is the constraint that forces us to act one way or another unless we are content with losing."

He arrived at Sasuke. "Do you understand the word Loyalty, Uchiha Sasuke?"

The word loyalty shouldn't have punctured his composure—and it didn't, not really—but the image of his brother still flashed briefly through his mind. That and the expedition to rescue Kakashi, which had made Sasuke the most similar he'd ever been to his brother, as far as he could tell.

"Loyalty stands for all that supports our ambition. It drives us to great heights, grounds us when the storm becomes unbearable. Most of all, however, it assures us that within our ranks we all strive for the same, that none of us will betray the other in this pursuit. Do you see, Team Seven, why your actions anger me?

"We are at war," Danzō said, voice frigid—the first emotion Sasuke could really tell from his tone and not the content of his words. "This is not Fire Country. Here we're at our most vulnerable and have to be united, always, because the enemy is everywhere. I will brook no dissent, no disobedience, no disloyalty. Not from you, nor from anyone else."

This time Sasuke's well-placed finger twitch was ignored, and though he disliked that, he'd expected it. Naruto wouldn't be able to stomach much more of this speech. It all sounded good and reasonable in theory, of course, but what had happened this evening wasn't of a theoretical nature.

"They were children," Naruto said. "And they got hurt for being born here. That's no necessity. And it isn't order either."

Sasuke wondered if the cane would hit Naruto next instead of the table. If it came to that he had his sword ready though. He also wondered if it was bad that he even considered treason a second time, and if they'd be able to survive against the Councilor.

Danzō's cane remained still, for now.

"Have you not heard what I just said, Uzumaki? It is a necessity to present a united front, no matter what happens. Otherwise this country will swallow us whole. It is order and loyalty not to sow dissent by attacking your own comrades."

"And the reasons don't matter?"

"It is not a question of reason," Danzō said, "but of visibility. Had you helped those children escape without showing yourself, no consequences would have met you. Had you reported the Chūnin, I would be reprimanding them right now. You, however, chose to show that we are not unified, and that is a foolishness I will not abide. Shinobi do not act without considering their circumstances."

Naruto clenched his fists as Danzō turned away from them and shuffled over to a smaller table at the other side of the tent. Sakura leaned over, whispering something in his ear that Sasuke couldn't hear. Slowly the fists unclenched. The glare Naruto directed at Danzō's back remained heavy as a battle axe though.

Coming back with two scrolls Danzō said, "You are already noted down for being disobedient. You've been barred from official promotion through the Jōnin Exams, and your record is marred with an entry of treason. I had not thought you stupid enough to risk even more damage."

Sasuke's pulse went faster. The braziers seemed much hotter now. Their records were sealed—the Third had told them as much. No one was to know about what had happened in the weeks directly after the invasion.

"There is only one way for you to advance in rank now," continued Danzō, "and that is through a field promotion. I can make you Jōnin, Team Seven. In fact, you are on the best way to reach that rank. But I will not promote you unless I can be completely assured of your loyalty to this cause and to Konoha."

If he could get away with it, Sasuke would love to tell Danzō where he could shove that promotion. His mind was pacing to connect the dots, however. Had Danzō been involved back then? Had he always known? Or had the Third shared it with him before sending them off to Suna?

"Teamwork has always been Konoha's strength," Danzō said, "but it doesn't mean individuals are unable to stand on their own. For the foreseeable future you will work under different supervisors, directly assisting them. They will further your studies and teach you how to lead effectively."

Danzō handed Sasuke and Sakura a scroll each. "Report to these shinobi at sunrise." After a beat of silence he added, "And take down that gray monstrosity. It is a blemish on this camp and impractical. You will sleep near your supervisors."

Sakura said, "What about—"

"Haruno, Uchiha, you have your orders."

Naruto nodded at them, and Sasuke left the tent with Sakura after a moment, unwilling but trusting Naruto to survive long enough for them to get back inside should the meeting go south. They waited for a few minutes until Naruto finally came out, face stretched as if he just ate spoiled Ramen.

"What did he want?" Sakura said. They were walking back to their tent.

Naruto emitted a low growl. "He let me know who my supervisor's going to be."

Sakura's mouth shaped a silent O, while Sasuke pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. There was no need to say more. But he sure as hell didn't envy Naruto. That, he decided, would be one uncomfortable working relationship.

* * *

The way back to their temporary home was silent. There was no need to talk, really, and Sakura was trailing slightly behind her teammates, looking about the camp. She tried to come up with something positive in this situation, anything, but Councilor Danzō's decision made it hard.

"I can't believe he called it a monstrosity," she said, as they arrived at their tent. Suna's nights were windy, and the gray flap of fabric flittered in between gusts.

"That's not really our problem," Sasuke said, entering and plopping himself on a cushion. He stared stonily at the other side of the tent, while Naruto went over to the table, splashing his face with water from a bowl.

Sakura sighed as her pitiful attempt at injecting humor failed. She looked at her teammates. So far the only time they'd been split up had been during their training with Kakashi-sensei. Back then it had been bearable—they had barely known each other—but now, after everything they went through? Prying them apart seemed such a cruel punishment to her, and her heartbeat quickened when she thought back to the moment Danzō had told them. That crippled old bastard, holding his sanctimonious speech, talking about loyalty—to whom? Him? The notion almost made her laugh—and preaching about order and necessity and all the lofty values they should aspire to, and what it meant to lead, dangling their promotion in front of them, as if that was of any consequence to them, as if they cared one lick for it, and—

Sakura felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Naruto next to her. She quickly wiped her hand over her face, and smiled, first at him, then at Sasuke who looked as though he'd go revisit Danzō.

"Easy there," Naruto said. "Danzō's a problem, but we've managed worse than him. I'd take that asshole over Kabuto any time."

"Dobe's telling the truth," Sasuke said, nodding. "We'll get this sorted out soon enough."

A snort escaped Sakura and she didn't have to strain her lips anymore to smile, because seeing Sasuke as a pillar of support was equally heart-warming as it was disturbing. She took deep breaths until she felt she had regained some measure of control.

"That cripple got our measure," she said at last. "I don't buy what he told us about learning to lead. As if! And having Naruto under his direct command? He's after something." She looked at Naruto, who sat beside her, pants rolled up, massaging his right calf. "The Kyuubi maybe? There's something to be said for having an in with a Jinchūriki."

"Having an 'in'? I doubt he's stupid enough to think I like him after this stunt. Even if, that's not what I'm worried about—we'll find out what he wants soon enough." Naruto switched from the right calf to the left. "What I want to know is how he learned about our little adventure. Jiji said the records are sealed."

"Either he stole the information," Sasuke said, "or the Hokage told him. I want to say it's the first, but we've no proof. And he's a commander, so there might be something to the second possibility."

It took a moment for Sakura to process the words. Sasuke standing shirtless next to the barrel and washing himself didn't make it easy to think, no matter how often they had seen each other naked already.

"Right," Naruto said, having finished with his legs and moving on to hers. "Either way we don't have much of a choice. If we don't do what he tells us to do we'll be in heaps of trouble."

"So we split?" Sakura said. Just saying it out loud made it more tangible, and also quite sad. For two years the thought of living alone hadn't crossed her mind. She wanted for it to stay that way.

"Not for long," Naruto said, smile encouraging but breaking apart at the seams. "We'll find a way, don't you worry, Sakura. All we've to do is convince him that keeping us together is the better option."

"That's not going to be easy," said Sasuke.

"Maybe," Naruto said, "but it beats the alternative, and I'm not letting that old fucker win."

* * *

 _More disturbing than even the uncertainty and hunger was the sound of rattling chains. A single movement, and the clangor would start. Seconds passed and then the door to the right, always that one, would open. His host knew he was conscious, then, and through the door came laughter and a whistle—always the same tune from a children song he remembered—before the man himself entered._

 _Kakashi glared at Orochimaru. His eye was swollen and crusted with blood._

 _"Ah, Kakashi. Awake again, I see." Orochimaru took a syringe from a metal gurney at the far side of the cell. "You will be pleased to hear that your solitude won't last much longer now."_

 _Kakashi jerked against the chains and tried to get away. But his body had stopped listening days ago and the bindings held him in place. Almost tenderly Orochimaru patted his purple-bruised arm before inserting the needle._

 _Heat spread through his arm and the veins bulged, contorted, writhed like little asps over his muscles. He moaned, and when the urge to scream grew overwhelming, he bit his lip hard enough to keep it in._

 _Orochimaru blew air on his arm and the pain surged past every threshold he knew. "You know I'm not a liar. So, believe me when I say that you will have enough company very soon."_

 _Kakashi blinked through the tears._

 _The second needle broke the skin—_

Kakashi shot up, tearing the sound out of his lungs in a roar. To his right were white walls, a window. Outside, a beech tree was whispering. His eyes flickered around the room. The smell of antiseptic and white sheets greeted him. A beep recurring in the rhythm of his pounding blood ripped through the haze. Then his heartbeat became louder than the noise and he breathed in large gulps, a man drowning and gasping for air, until the choking in his throat subsided.

 _Assess the situation; do not falter._

He felt for his chakra and found it circulating through his pathways, coursing past the gates as it had always done before. He stopped the circulation for a moment, then let it resume, basking in the feeling of having it surge through his body.

This was no Genjutsu, then. But why—

 _You must have wondered why you're still alive…prisoners always do. The answer is easy: I am a cautious man, you see? I had a plan, and in case my plan failed I needed a back-up._

The memory came unbidden. It flickered into existence, a haunting specter, nothing more.

 _Looks like we caught ourselves a drenched snake, Itachi-san._

A specter that summoned more of its kind. Kakashi held his head as the images followed.

He was lying on the ground and in front of him crouched someone with black hair, gripping the hilt of a sword tight enough for the knuckles to show bone-white against the skin and black leather.

 _Helping your little brother, Itachi?_

Blood twining with dirt in her hair Sakura stood unbowed beside Sasuke.

 _I have a name, you assholes!_

Naruto's back, broad as the trunk of a sycamore, shielding him from danger.

Kakashi's mind jumped farther, but he pulled himself together, breathed in and out, in and out. His hand reached up to the right side of his face, feeling for the empty cavity under the bandages and finding an eye where there should be none.

From the hallway came hurried footsteps. They mixed with the beeping from the machine which had become unsteady and rapid. Before his mind registered what he was doing, Kakashi ripped the cannula connecting him to a tube out of his arm, ignoring the sting and the blood, hiding the cannula in his palm.

A nurse entered the room, wearing the uniform of Konoha's healers. She rushed over but stopped mid-way and he felt blood soaking through the bandages over his eye as the Sharingan activated on instinct.

The moment passed.

"You're finally awake, Kakashi-san, thank God." The nurse came closer and he almost flinched away as she inspected his face. "Tsunade-sama has been informed," she told him. "She'll be here any minute now to take care of you, I promise. But first…"

She pulled something out of a drawer and Kakashi's gaze followed her as she returned with a new cannula, attaching it to the tube with great care. "Let's get you set up," she said, and as the needled pierced his arm he stared over her shoulder at the wall, the previous cannula hidden in his palm burying deep into his flesh.

"There," she said, "It's done. And once Tsunade-sama is here you'll be on your feet quickly, you'll see."

"My team?"

"Tsunade-sama will tell you everything soon, I'm sure, Kakashi-san."

 _Only the pink one. You have another purpose, and Itachi-san wants his brother for himself._

Kakashi seized her arm. "Where is my team?"

She breathed rapidly now, and they were close enough that her warm breath reached him with every expulsion of air. His grip slackened and his arm fell useless to the side. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what…"

The nurse clutched her arm to her body, even as her lips parted in a sad smile. "It's quite alright," she said, calming down and patting his hand. "You can be proud of them, yes, I think you really can. I only know what's being told in the cafeteria, but they were great. All three of them."

Kakashi soaked up the words as she spoke.

"Saved a lot of civilians, I hear. And I reckon a lot of the older folks had their notions challenged…you know what I mean, about the blond kid—Uzumaki."

As though all inertia yielded, light-headedness entered his mind. They had done well. They had survived.

"Where are they now?" he asked.

The nurse glanced at her shoes and then at the door as the clicking of heels resounded from the hallway.

"I just want to know if they are fine," Kakashi said.

She hesitated a second longer, then said, "They're with my son. In Suna, I mean. My son's there now, too, and—"

The content feeling evaporated. He threw the blanket on him aside and struggled out of the bed, seeing her lips move but not paying attention to her words anymore. They were in Suna and that could mean all manner of things, none of them good.

"Kakashi."

His name was spoken, a single command, and he sunk back into the mattress as Senju Tsunade strode up to the bed, heels echoing in her wake. Her assistant walked right behind her, holding a clipboard in her hands. Shizune, if he recalled.

"Tsunade-sama," said the nurse.

"I'll take it from here."

The nurse scurried past Shizune and did not look back at Kakashi as she left. Once alone, Tsunade scanned him for injuries, prodding his pectorals and arms with hands glowing a bright green in the dimness of the room. "You need rest, Kakashi," she said. "Orochimaru had you far too long for you to be jumping around and scaring my staff."

"I doubt I can jump right now."

Shizune scribbled on the clipboard. "We felt your chakra fluctuating from miles away," she told him as Tsunade's fingertips massaged the skin around his eye. "You mustn't exert yourself. What that man did to you…"

"I promise to keep it down. Now, why is my team in Suna and how did I end up here?"

"You were rescued," Tsunade said. "That's all I can tell you. The records are sealed."

"Sealed? But—"

"Kakashi."

Her tone made clear that he wouldn't get any answers about the rescue from her. Not today at least.

"Why Suna?"

Tsunade finished healing his eye. The loss of her cooling chakra left his body and him wanting for more.

"You missed out on a lot since you got captured," she told him, washing her hands at the other side of the room. "I don't have time to give you all the details, but Shizune will make sure you get an accurate report of current events." More softly, "Your brats are fine, Kakashi. Now stop ruining the miracle we worked to save you."

"How long until I can see them?"

"You're a stubborn ox, you know that?" She turned off the faucet and, toweling her hands, came back to his bed. "First we have to get you healthy again. Then we can talk about sending you over."

"Define healthy."

If his suspicions turned out to be true, then his team had gone far and beyond what he had ever expected of them. Stories weren't enough after that. He needed to see them. Needed to convince himself in person that they were alive. That they had, despite his treatment of them, adhered to the very core of the principles he had tried to instill in them.

"You're still too agitated," Tsunade said.

And Kakashi had neither the presence of mind nor the strength to avoid her as she put a finger on his forehead, whispered a word, and the world turned a hazy green before growing black altogether.

* * *

 **AN:** And so ends the second chapter. I hope you enjoyed it, and as usual, my thanks to the DLP crew.


	3. Straight III

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto

* * *

 **Lines in the Sand**

 **Straight – III**

* * *

 _I don't know why I'm doing this._

 _Don't worry too much. Life's always roundabout._

* * *

"Have you understood the motion?"

Naruto nodded at Danzō. They were out in the desert, two miles away from Suna. Heat shimmered over the sand. They had been there for hours now, behind the large dune that kept the village out of sight.

"Explain," Danzō said.

Naruto was tired and concentrating was difficult. But for Danzō excuses didn't count if you gave the wrong answer. "The vagus nerve," Naruto said. "It's the link between the twelfth and… and the thirteenth meridian in the neck. One hit at the right angle and the flow of blood and chakra will be stopped, leading to unconsciousness."

"Where does this technique come from?"

 _The Hyūga_ , Naruto thought. _Something with the Hyūga_. _Damn, that's not everything_. _I know this…_

Naruto racked his brain, but Danzō hated to wait and knowing that made thinking all the harder.

"Uzumaki."

"The Hyūga," Naruto said. "They gave it up."

Danzō narrowed his eyes. The wrong answer, then. He wished he had some water for his dry throat.

"The location of the nerve is common knowledge," Danzō said.

"Right…" Naruto picked up the thought, remembering how it continued. "Different villages, different ways to use it. The Hyūga gave Konoha a simple technique accessible to Chūnin and above." Recalling the rest of the memory he said, "It's common knowledge, so it's not used often. Every shinobi is trained to guard that area. If I find an opening though I can end the fight in one move."

"Show me," Danzō said.

He linked his hands; a clone rose out of the sand beside him. Naruto squared his shoulders. Having two bandaged mummies observe him wasn't all that pleasant. He'd gotten used to it by now though and stared straight ahead, muscles flexing. The heat was much worse. In the camp the eaves of the tents spent shadow. Out here there was nothing, and his neck was hot and slick with sweat.

Naruto eyed the clone, waited for the real Danzō to put some distance between them, then shot forward. The sand sprayed up where he stepped. In three leaps he had reached his target, left hand rising. The clone was much slower than the original. By the time it turned to defend, Naruto had already circled around, delivering a heavy chop to the neck. The result was a puff of smoke.

"Acceptable," Danzō said.

Afterwards he began the trek up the large dune, Naruto a step behind, limbs heavy from the training. Moving in the sand required a certain way to circulate your chakra. Hours of training left him with little focus, however, and he felt himself sink into the sand, muscles straining as he followed Danzō.

As always, the trip back to camp was spent in silence. Danzō only ever talked when he lectured, and then his sentences were created with an otherworldly frugality. He also didn't like repeating himself. A quarter of a year in Suna, one month of that time under Danzō's personal supervision, and Naruto couldn't believe that time as a whole moved that fast, but during the day went at a snail's pace.

When they'd been told they would fight in a war he had expected ceaseless action. He thought they'd have to run from position to position, advancing, fighting, never resting or retreating. Much like the rescue mission for Kakashi-sensei. War was slow though. It pounced once, maybe twice, the weight behind those attacks devastating. Then the beast was satisfied, its own blood-swollen belly pulling it to the ground.

Each day he would follow Danzō around, scribbling down what the man dictated, but most of all listening to what he said. Naruto heard about the frontlines between Kusa, Iwa, and Konoha, which hadn't moved an inch in all this time. He heard of the destruction of Waterfall Country, and how the shinobi there had destroyed all traces of the Hero's Water before seeking refuge in Konoha. He listened as Danzō told him of Rain Country, and how their uncompromising stance toward outsiders made it impossible to predict their actions.

And as time progressed Naruto saw how frustrated Danzō actually was with his current position. He only revealed it in short glimpses, and with a man like Danzō, Naruto was careful not to misinterpret what he noticed in small gestures and little twitches.

Wind Country, Danzō would tell him, had to be pacified at all costs. This country was at best a liability to drag them down, at worst a kunai poised to stab them in the back. It all went back to necessity, and how it was necessary to do whatever it took to make sure Suna would not cost Konoha this war.

At the end of such a lecture Naruto would nod dutifully. He disliked the bandaged cripple as much as on the first day, but he couldn't deny that the lessons were worth it. Danzō knew how to lead people. Danzō knew how to fight. And Danzō also was in control of himself for as long as Naruto served him now. Control. That was the keyword. One month of surface knowledge about the Elemental Nations, and already Naruto felt more in control. He knew where to go should he have to rescue someone again, and which places were guarded so heavily that infiltration was impossible.

Each day of new information shone a different light on the two weeks after the Chūnin exam.

Kakashi was a lucky man, he now understood. Not just on an instinctual level but also through factual knowledge. That mission could've gone wrong in so many ways, their success was a major miracle. Two of those and they could petition to found a religion. A crazy old man had told him that in Suna's market square.

Naruto entered the camp behind Danzō, the Chūnin at the gate saluting them.

The camp was noisy and, as usual, a punch to the nose. Naruto was used to it by now, but the sheer amount of smells that coalesced in this stronghold was able to knock out a Bijū.

He heard, "Oi, Uzumaki!" from a group of shinobi near the palisade that ringed the camp. They snapped off a quick salute when Danzō went past, and knowing that he'd have half an hour before Danzō would need him again Naruto went over to them. Three months had tanned them good. Their vests were leaning against a barrel, and they worked the latrine with large shovels, turning the sand. Danzō had declared the use of Earth Jutsu for latrine duty as frivolous, making it a punishment that Sakura had become quite familiar with.

"What's up?" Naruto said, walking up to them, stench growing worse.

The guy who had called him, tall and burly, punted his shovel into the ground, leaning on the wooden handle. "Barrel's empty again," he said, grinning. "You ought to make good on your duties, waterboy."

The group around him nodded. They were all in agreement on the issue, and while they laughed Naruto flipped them off, stalking over to the barrel. He looked inside and found it empty except for a small puddle at the bottom.

He heard, "See? It's empty."

"Get back to shoveling," Naruto said.

They laughed again but returned to their work. Naruto called up his chakra, pushing it through his hands and filling the barrel. Two minutes later the job was done, and he was frustrated as always by the small progress he'd made. He contemplated spitting in the barrel for good measure but stopped himself. Latrine duty was bad enough. It left your hands hurting and sore, and your nose in a constant state of feeling threatened.

"Done," Naruto said, passing them.

"Thanks, waterboy." The burly man wiped his brow and nodded. He was still grinning but it wasn't malicious, and Naruto let it go. He waved lazily, then moved on, stomach tightening. He hadn't eaten since morning and still had twenty minutes until Danzō wanted him back at command.

Deeper into the camp he exchanged a handful of coins for a piece of bread and a stew with snake meat. He settled down on a crate, scooping the meat out of the spicy broth, chewing slowly as he watched shinobi pass by. Snake was really fatty, and he made sure to always eat bread with it to avoid stomach aches. Much like eel, he found. He hadn't eaten eel in a long while. The last time had been at Ichiraku's. Naruto smiled at the memory. Old man Teuchi had made a real bargain with some trader, and seafood ramen had become the big thing to eat for a month.

His smile grew strained when he remembered that the cook needed her barrel filled as well. The woman, hair up in a bun and secured by a net, was watching him with a gruff look to make sure he brought back the bowl and the spoon, and wouldn't forget his duty.

 _Should've never asked Danzō_ …

Sighing Naruto got up to his feet and went over to the barrel while she put the dishes away. Once, he had asked about training in something else than Taijutsu, and Danzō, humanity's embodiment of apathy, had smiled. Naruto had resolved to never see that smile again if possible. There were no techniques to be learned, Danzō had said, but Naruto could always sharpen his control over his element. From then on, whenever the cripple was occupied with something he didn't want company for, Naruto completed the momentous task of refilling the water barrels around camp.

Three minutes before the time was up Naruto entered into the cozy tent next to Command, leaving behind the red evening sun. Danzō was inside already, sitting at a table decked out on one side with sugared fruit, bread, cheese, and a gilded goblet, and being completely bare on the other side. A small map hung dangerously close to a torch-holder stuck in the ground.

Across Danzō, and partaking in all the delicacies on offer, sat a man of medium height. He sported dark-brown hair with specks of white, sharp eyes that made him look like a hawk, and bronze skin. His green robes were spun from silk and lined with silver. He had a chain around the neck—good to choke him with, should the situation call for it. The ring on the thumb of his right hand was what made him important though.

The Daimyo's head advisor, Shien, didn't even notice the new arrival and continued talking to Danzō. Naruto went past, smelling the strong scent of alcohol coming from the trio of decanters near the man, busying himself with sorting useless documents on the small desk not too far away.

Shien's mission, as far as Naruto knew, was to oversee what little of Konoha's pacification process Danzō was willing to let him view, and then report back to his master. He was an arrogant bastard, but knew his stuff about the situation in Wind Country.

"There have been multiple attacks on the main road to Sukoru now, Danzō-dono," Shien said. "I must make my report, but leaving Suna without an adequate escort is out of question. Your aid will be appreciated."

Danzō sat listening. From what Naruto could tell, he hadn't touched a single drop of alcohol in three months, nor had he eaten food that was different from what his men ate. In that Naruto felt grudging respect for him. But that could also be because he disliked Shien. The advisor was an outsider. And even though Naruto wanted to trip Danzō every time he saw him, he'd love spitting in the goblet of that pompous guy even more.

"That is acceptable, Shien-dono," Danzō said. "The Daimyo's continuous support plays a crucial role in the pacification process. Your safety, therefore, is as important to me as it is to you."

Naruto suppressed the temptation to cough loudly and mix in a few words of choice.

"I am quite sure," Shien said. He looked like a fly had flown into his nostril and was partying it up inside, producing a sneer that fell short just before reaching its full potential.

"In any event," Shien continued, "three teams should suffice to deliver me safely to Sukoru. High-ranking shinobi, of course. I do not want Genin blundering about and getting my entourage killed by accident." He paused to take a sip from his goblet. "It would be for the best if they had a rudimentary knowledge of the area as well. On the chance that we have to flee the main road, I do not want to be in the hands of geographical illiterates."

Danzō had sat still during Shien's account of demands, doing nothing but leaning slightly forward and listening. Naruto though became giddy after having seen the subtle sign of Danzō's displeasure—the miniscule shift of weight on his cane. This could be the chance he had waited for, and he positioned himself so neither could see his face well, in case his expression would give him away.

"You will excuse me if I think your demand of three teams to be overly…cautious," Danzō said, voice measured. "I can spare one team, Shien-dono. They will be Chūnin of high skill, I assure you."

Naruto saw Shien balling his hands into fists under the table. "You have a large force at your command here, Danzō-dono, and you are telling me you can spare but one team? I find that hard to believe."

"It is unfortunate, but with your specific requests, only a few teams are possible. Most of them have other missions that are of vital importance." Naruto perked up at that. Team Seven certainly wasn't on a mission of vital importance, but soon, maybe, they would be. He tried to contain his grin. "Do not worry too much," continued Danzō, "the team I have in mind consists of seasoned shinobi. Three men, in fact, with a spotless record."

The grin slid off Naruto's face, anticipation giving way to disappointment, then to a surging sense of anger and self-deprecation. Of course Danzō hadn't meant Team Seven. The idea that he would send them on this mission outside Suna was ridiculous. Team Seven hadn't exactly made it on Danzō's list of favorite people—if there existed such a thing—and Naruto chided himself for being blinded even by the wish for a reunion with his teammates.

"Is that your last word on this matter?" asked Shien.

"It is," answered Danzō.

The two of them entered a staring contest, and Naruto had to give the advisor credit for holding out that long. Looking into that bandaged face was unnerving at best, horrifying at worst. It was clear though who would win in the end. The Daimyo's support was important, yes, but not to such an extent that Danzō would let him dictate the terms. Konoha had conquered, after all, and not the other way around.

They kept staring at each other, and Naruto thought, _I'll find a way to get this team back together, just you watch Danzō. There's nothing that can stop Uzumaki Naruto when he wants something. Hear me? Nothing! Not you, and certainly not this desert or Orochimaru or Akatsuki or anything else!_

As it was bound to happen, Shien's eyes flickered away first, shying any further contest with the crippled commander in front of him. "One team, then," he said. "I just hope they are as good as you claim."

 _Oh, I will make sure they're good, don't you worry_.

Naruto edged closer to the table. The talk was nearing its end, and he still had no idea how to bring Team Seven into the race. But he was perfectly willing to try something. This was a good opportunity to get back with Sasuke and Sakura and then kiss Danzō goodbye for a while.

"I hope you get this rebel problem under control soon, Danzō-dono," Shien said, as he rose, eying the map hanging next to them. "There are many paths open to them and it seems impossible to predict from where they will strike next. Our Lord Daimyo wants this tasteless matter of bloodshed settled as soon as possible."

The parting shot hit, though Naruto doubted Shien had seen the sign of displeasure in the way Danzō gripped his cane. Then the words registered. Naruto's mind began pacing through the options, Shien's request for Chūnin with geographic literacy fresh in his mind.

Naruto looked at the map. Danzō's lectures had to be good for something. A gamble, of course, but what wasn't?

 _It's a damn sight better than doing nothing. Go big or go home, Uzumaki. Now's the time to prove you got it._

He cleared his throat and began talking, staring straight at the map and ignoring Danzō. "It's true that we can't see the rebels' every move, Shien-sama, but for your journey it shouldn't be impossible to make predictions. The most vulnerable part of the road to Sukoru is at the fringe of the Sweeping Mountains, just before the village Kuhako. If someone were planning to attack you, that would be the spot they'd likely choose—it's an equal distance away from Suna and Sukoru."

Naruto pointed at two more parts on the map. "A large rebel force can't be sustained by the few small villages in the area, so the bulk of the attack would probably stem from the regions around Shishi and Hajim. Both are reasonably large cities that lie, for now, outside of our influence."

Finished with his explanation he turned back to his listeners. His palms were sweaty, and not just from the torch next to him. He felt a nervous twitter in his gut. Kakashi's training, fighting Orochimaru and Akatsuki, and still things like this could make him nervous. The silence in the tent was tangible, like a cloud of cold smoke.

It dissipated when Shien said, "Your aide seems to have a good grasp of the area, Danzō-dono."

Naruto's body relaxed. This was good.

"He has indeed," Danzō said.

Giving Danzō the finger seemed inappropriate, but he'd love to do it anyway. If only Team Seven could get out of that geezer's sphere of influence, everything would sort itself out and they wouldn't have to worry about being split up permanently. Then Naruto's eyes wandered back to Shien and his mood turned abruptly.

The advisor's not-quite-sneer was back in full force. "He is rather pretentious though, is he not?" Turning to Naruto, "In conversations such as this you have no right to speak, boy. You should remember that."

A growl tickled Naruto's vocal chords. He held it back.

Shien said, "What rank is he, if I may ask?"

"Chūnin," Danzō said.

"Really? I would not have expected that after this display."

"Please, do not take offense, Shien-dono. Youth is brash at times." Nodding at Naruto Danzō said, "You are released for today, Uzumaki. I will see you in the morning. Make sure to fulfill your other duties until then."

Naruto didn't stick around after the dismissal. He walked away in a measured fashion, but the moment he had cleared the tent he balled his fists and released the growl that had been rising in his throat.

* * *

Evening settling further, Naruto ambled through the camp to calm himself. He felt angry at the dismissal, furious once more at Danzō splitting them up in the first place, and it occurred to him eventually that he and nobles didn't mix, and that he wouldn't admit defeat that easily. Nothing was lost quite yet, and where he might have failed, his team would pick up the slack. That's how it worked in Team Seven. Danzō would learn that soon enough.

He just had to find his teammates first.

They had set up a spot near the Shard Wall where they could meet, but the times had been few and short, their supervisors riding them hard. Danzō's contribution no doubt. It wasn't a lot of physical work, but they were kept busy enough not to see each other too often.

Naruto cast a glance at the darkening sky. Most nights were surprisingly cold in Suna. Once in a while, however, there were inexplicable days, like this one, where the daytime heat stayed well into the night.

Popping his fingers and stretching, Naruto moved on. He would have to gather the rest of Team Seven soon. Shien planned to start his journey the next day, and if they wanted to use that opportunity it had to be done quickly.

Looking for Sakura wouldn't be much of a problem. She was somewhere in the camp, swamped by the useless paperwork her supervisor hoisted off on her whenever she thought Sakura wasn't working hard enough.

Sasuke was far more troublesome. He was either patrolling—which made it hard to narrow down his position in a large village like Suna—or he was dealing with some crotchety old lady. Chilo…Chiko…something like that. After setting up camp in Suna's old hospital complex, Konoha's medical services now extended to the population as well. Sasuke had met that old bird there. What they did together was anybody's guess though.

 _Problem is, I've no idea where that Chiko lady lives._

Naruto swerved out of the way as a pair of Konoha-nin blundered past him. One of them sported a busted lip and a swollen eye. He was leaning heavily on his friend, whose stomach was shaking with suppressed laughter.

The one that had taken a beating mumbled something. Grinning the girl supporting him said, "Yeah, you totally showed him. I've never seen such a display of pure ability." A comment for which her partner painstakingly raised his arm to swat at her head.

Naruto stared after them. His chances of locating Sasuke weren't good, but he knew just the right person for this job. And finding him was quite easy during this time of the day. There existed a simple truth to living in this camp. And if you asked any shinobi not attached to some hard-ass supervisor, they'd give you the same answer: boredom. The bulk of the army stayed in Suna, leaving all the fired-up shinobi with far too much time on their hands.

They took to gambling, drank themselves silly, and invented harebrained dares that defied reason and common sense entirely. All in all, his crowd exactly. Last week alone had seen three Genin being treated at the hospital for having swallowed a scorpion. Sasuke's expression must have been priceless.

Beside those options of passing time, there was a last bit of amusement to be had in the camp, however. Naruto reached it presently, a large tent that just two months ago had served as a storeroom for provisions. A clever supervisor—now certainly a well-liked one—had convinced Danzō to relocate the provisions to a safer place, thus clearing out the tent.

From inside came the uproar of dozens of voices, followed by laughter. Naruto pushed the flap aside and entered the tent. Shinobi sat scattered at tables in the front area; the sand floor was laid out with straw. Three Chūnin gave out drinks at a counter that had been hastily cobbled together.

The one thing that had the power to overwhelm someone in here was neither the noise nor the alcohol but the stench. Naruto could almost feel the old sweat of other people cling to him like a second layer of clothing, and what else there was in this lurid mixture, he didn't want to think about.

Passing the bar and closing in on the back of the tent he came to a place that reminded him of his first C-ranked mission, back when things had been much simpler. To teach them water-walking, Kakashi had excavated a square hole which had then been hardened with fire and eventually filled with water.

Here, the same principle had been applied, just without the last step.

Nothing got a shinobi going like a good fight—and gambling on a fight, of course. In the Hole, special rules applied. Only Taijutsu, which was a given, and no lick of chakra. Using it meant instant loss. That slowed down the fights, making it a nice viewer spectacle. It also left enough room for it to still look more impressive than anything civilians could do.

It also didn't destroy buildings or tents. That was always a plus.

Naruto pushed past a few elbows, evaded one pitcher and a small porcelain bottle, before he finally reached the wooden guardrail that had been put together to save drunken shinobi from falling into the fight.

For some this camp was a holiday resort even on their hardest workdays. Coupled with an extremely relaxed supervisor, the result was one Genin with a lot of energy to spare and too much time on his hands.

Both fighters in the ring had lost their clothes above the waist. The night was too hot for anything else. Naruto saw that Kiba's head was matted with sweat, as was the rest of him. Blood trickled from his lips. He still grinned though, even as his opponent moved in, lashing out with his fist.

Kiba took the hit head-on, accepting the damage as a trade for ending the fight quicker. The punch drove Kiba's face to the side just as Kiba buried his own fist in the stomach of his opponent. The shinobi lurched back and buckled. Kiba kept the pressure up and rammed into the man, elbow first. Together they crashed into the wall of the pit.

The shinobi tried to kick at Kiba but it was a feeble attempt. Kiba danced out of reach, then snapped forward, right fist swinging. A second later his opponent lay on the ground. The crowd hollered. Kiba let out an aggressive bark of laughter, throwing his bloody fist in the air. Then he climbed up the wall and out of the pit, picked up his mesh-shirt and the rest of his uniform, and sat down on a stool, breathing heavily.

As Naruto walked toward him, some people clapped Kiba on the back before turning to the next fight, eager to see some more action. A generous donor reached Kiba a flask from which he took greedy gulps, before shuddering.

"You fight so damn crude, man. Taking that punch, really?" Naruto said.

Kiba looked up from his flask, breaking into a cough.

"Wrong pipe," he croaked, hitting his chest with his palm. "Crap, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Do I have to announce myself now?"

Kiba grinned at him through bloodied teeth. "Would make it easier for people to run from your hideous face."

Naruto raised an eyebrow.

Kiba emptied the bottle, then threw it over his shoulder. "What're you doing here anyway? I thought you've got no time for this, or we would've met in there already," he said with a nod toward the roaring congregation of shinobi.

"I need your help. Something came up."

"Eh, sure. Give me a moment." Kiba craned his neck. A moment later he was standing next to a woman who wore a ribbon denoting her as a supervisor. They exchanged some words, and Kiba came back, whistling while throwing and catching a small pouch.

They left the tent after Naruto had explained that he was looking for Sasuke, entering into Suna in a sprint before jumping on the roofs and following Kiba's nose. The silence between them stretched, and Naruto shot Kiba a glance.

"How're you holding up?" Naruto asked.

Kiba commented with a flat "fine," but then forced a grin on his face. "What about you? I heard Danzō plucked you three apart for rescuing some kids."

"He did."

"You made quite the waves, and not good ones. I mean, I understand and all, but some here really hate Suna." Kiba snorted. "Which is a real problem because—guess what—we're in Suna. We're here to stay for a while."

"They just have to deal with it. I'm not apologizing."

The partially destroyed domes went by as they closed in on the western district, the general area Kiba had traced Sasuke's scent to.

"What about the kids?" asked Kiba.

"What about them?"

"How are they? I know you've been going in and out of Suna, I can smell it. Only at night though. Figured Danzō's cracking down and you only have time when it's dark."

Naruto sighed. They ran parallel to the Shard Wall now. "They're…well, not fine. But it could be worse, I guess. They're living with their grandfather. Mother's dead, father joined the rebels. Not much else to tell. Both want to be shinobi."

"They told you all that?"

"Na, haven't spoken to them. Just watching."

"That's creepy, man. You should at least try talking to them or something."

"Shove off," Naruto said. "I'm just making sure there's no two-bit Chūnin taking revenge on them for getting beat up. You never know with guys like that."

"You really liked those—" Kiba stopped. "Got him," he said, jumping down into the streets.

They cut a few corners, crossed the main thoroughfare of the western district—quite a lot of eaves hung with red on each side—and found Sasuke leaning against the wheat-colored wall of a two-storey house. Like most buildings in this district, it had been spared destruction. The entrance was roofed by cascading red fabric. Orange light glinted behind smudged windowpanes.

Sasuke wasn't alone. A young woman, quite the beauty as far as Naruto could see it in the dim torchlight, was chatting with or rather at him. The Uchiha didn't reply to many of her enquiries, but he wasn't looking all that uncomfortable either. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, and he was staring at the opposite building, now and then throwing a glance at the woman.

Kiba uttered a low whistle. "I'll be damned. So that's his game?"

Naruto threw another look at the red fabric draped over the building. "You think he's…?"

They were slowly walking toward the pair. "I think if he wanted to, he'd have used all his wasted opportunities back in Konoha."

"They look close enough to me," said Naruto.

Naruto had said the last word loud enough for Sasuke to notice their approach. Sasuke blinked, leaned toward the woman, and whispered something. The courtesan answered with a quiet laugh. Then she went up to her toes, placed a kiss on his cheek—Sasuke's entire face remaining a stoic mask—and vanished into the house.

"I expected a lot from you," Naruto said, grinning, "but this is beyond my comprehension."

Sasuke looked indifferent. "Your comprehension doesn't cover much."

"Once an asshole, always an asshole," Kiba said.

"You should shower once in a while, Inuzuka."

"I would, but 'waterboy' here"—Kiba thumbed at Naruto—"is kind of lazy."

Naruto's lips twitched. They had needed two seconds to synchronize and turn on him. He chose to save what's left of his dignity and changed the topic away from water. "What's up with this, Sasuke? A month alone and I find you here of all places? What would Sakura say?"

Sasuke shrugged. "If she has a problem with it, she can talk to my supervisor. I've been spending the last two hours of every day here while he's inside."

Naruto was about to ask another question when Kiba interrupted him.

"I know you two ladies want to share gossip, but didn't you have something important to do, Naruto?"

"Right," Naruto said. "I might have found a way to get Team Seven back into business."

Sasuke pushed himself away from the wall and came closer. "Let's hear it."

"We need to do some plotting, share some ideas and stuff," said Naruto. "Sakura's in the camp, finding her will be easy, I think. Can you come right now, or do you need more time here?"

"I'm free," said Sasuke. "Leeya went inside to tell him that I'm at Chiyo's. He'll complain and then forget it."

"Can't fault him," Kiba said. "I bet he has other things on his mind right now."

* * *

Sakura shifted on the ground, trying to find a more relaxing position. She was sitting on a rough carpet in the back of a tent, hidden behind stacks of crates and barrels, leafing through the pages of a worn book she had bought earlier that day. Commerce had begun to normalize in Suna after a few weeks. Once the merchants noticed that Konoha wasn't the robber baron of their nightmares they lost a good portion of their anxiety.

A flame flickered in a vase made of glass near her feet, warming them. Naruto had carved a seal into the bottom of the vase. With chakra it burned all night long, making reading much easier while she hid from her supervisor.

Sakura slid to the left, rolling her shoulders, grimacing. No matter which way she contorted her body, there was always some hard edge pressing against her back. Just as there was always sand in places it had no business being in.

Indulging in the admittedly rather fascinating tales Wind Country had to offer would be a lot easier if she could do so in her tent. Shikari, that monstrous woman of a supervisor who sported muscles shaming most Taijutsu experts, was shoveling more and more work onto Sakura's plate, as though she was in love with Danzō and obeyed him in all terms.

Sakura could imagine their conversation perfectly well.

' _Keep Haruno busy,'_ Danzō would say.

' _Yes, Danzō-sama, I will do as you command. No free time shall be given to her,_ 'the sodden bitch would then reply, and Danzō would end the whole spiel with an evilly chuckled ' _Excellent._ '

Too bad that after getting burned a few times in the first week, Sakura had wised up and started to get away the moment she completed her normal workload. The other shinobi in the group liked her well enough and didn't tell Shikari much, which in turn led to some hide and seek games that had taken both of them to every corner of the camp, into the village…hell, even outside of Suna. Sometimes Sakura got caught, however. Then she'd have to pull extra shifts on latrine duty, a wonderful job, really.

It took a moment to move away from the imagery of murdering Shikari. Relaxing her clenched fists Sakura concentrated on the book in her lap. The tale was interesting—with Naruto as a teammate, stories about Bijū always were.

The book detailed the history of the Oasis of Ike that lay a few hundred miles to the south of Sukoru, and around which, over time, first a community and then a city had been formed. The oasis was the largest body of water in Wind Country aside from the ocean to the south.

The book told that when the wind picked up at night one could hear the palm trees whisper secrets of the gods to each other.

Sakura trailed her finger over a faded picture. In the middle of the oasis was an island on which now stood a gorgeous temple of white marble. The legend went that the very first Jinchūriki of the Ichibi had found an unparalleled peace of mind there, mastering the volatile forces of his Bijū.

Later generations tried the same, but while the island still exuded the same calmness as before, all the other Jinchūriki that traveled there failed in their endeavor. They could not control the power of the Ichibi, ultimately dying and setting the Bijū free. This went on until Suna decided that the oasis had lost its power. They imprisoned Bunpaku, the Ichibi's Jinchūriki of that time, inside the Sweeping Mountains with naught but a teakettle.

Transfixed by the book, Sakura hurried to the next page.

Then noise from outside the tent jerked her out of her trance. She extinguished the flame in her vase and listened. For most of the shinobi stationed in Suna this tent was off-limits. Someone was taking great pains in sneaking inside just now though. She pressed herself against the stack behind her, trying to peer through the gap between a crate and a barrel.

"You sure she's here?"

"He's an Inuzuka, moron. Of course she's here."

"See? Even Uchiha says that I'm never wrong."

"That's not what I—"

One by one the familiar voices reached her ears. Sakura pinched the bridge of her nose and flicked her hand—the light in the vase went on again.

"If that's your idea of a stealthy entrance I have to disappoint you," she said, waving from behind the crates.

"I told you she's here," Kiba said.

As all three hurried over to her, she rolled out a utility scroll, placed the book in the circle in the middle of it, and carefully sealed it with a slight application of chakra. With those three around the space became cramped, and she didn't want to risk the fragile book.

"Be a bit quieter, will you?" she said, glancing first at their clueless faces and surmising that stealth hadn't been their primary concern, and then at the entrance where the tent flap was stirring in the wind. "What are you doing here?"

"Moron's got a plan," Sasuke said.

"I dare you to call me that again."

"Moro—"

"Stop it you two!" she said with vehemence, grabbing one shoulder each and squeezing hard.

They quieted down, but beside them Kiba exploded in a laugh, which Sakura's glare quelled soon enough as well.

"If we get caught this is your fault," she said, shaking her head. "Now, what's going on?"

Naruto said, "I—"

"Haruno!" came a call from outside the tent. The voice was laced with distaste, and Sakura resolved to kill them later for this. Now she had to react quickly though, or all three of them would get into serious trouble for entering a restricted area.

Her hands formed seals, and within a split-second a number of Genjutsu concealed the presence of their little group. It wasn't complete invisibility like Jiraiya-sensei had showed her once, but it was a distortion of the senses to such a degree that even if you were standing in front of a person they wouldn't notice you.

"Haruno, I know you're in here," Shikari called. "I've heard your voice just now. Come out!"

Sakura cursed inwardly as she watched that muscle-laden woman stomp about the tent like a gorilla with too much testosterone.

"I know you're here," Shikari repeated in a whisper, "and I'll make you come out if you don't show yourself."

When the kunoichi formed the seal to dispel Genjutsu Sakura's heart jumped to her throat. She reacted, and with far too little time manipulated the illusions so they still applied to her friends, but excluded herself. It was a spur of the moment modification, and she really hoped it worked.

Gulping Sakura stepped forward.

 _Please. I'll train extra hard if this worked, I promise._

"I knew you'd come out," Shikari said.

"Yeah, well, here I am." Sakura didn't bother to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

"You're a real piece of work, Haruno, but don't worry… sooner or later you'll do as told."

Sakura motioned behind her back for the others to leave the tent. "And how will you do that? Go to Danzō?"

"That's Danzō-sama to you, Haruno. And yes, he'll set you straight."

Sakura grinned despite herself. "Yes, please, report me," she said. "I'm sure Danzō will be thrilled to hear how well you managed me. He seems an okay guy. I bet he accepts failure as part of being human."

Her supervisor was silent for a moment, and Sakura saw Naruto sign that they would be waiting near the Hole for her. Then the three left the tent, leaving her alone with that tremendous mountain of a woman.

"Be careful, Haruno," Shikari said, "your glib attitude won't always save you. It's too late now to bother with you, but tomorrow is coming. We'll see who's laughing when you're shoveling shit from morning to evening."

"Is that all?"

Shikari grunted, and Sakura took that as her dismissal and went past the woman and out of the tent.

* * *

Sasuke was leaning against a post in the shadow of a tent, listening to Naruto's whispered oaths about Danzō. They were behind the Hole, waiting for Sakura to shake off her supervisor. He eyed the sky. There had been no clouds for days, and the stars were quite bright. From inside the tent came a surge of voices, loud, whiny, male, boisterous, aggressive, female, happy, empathetic. After a while he stopped differentiating them and the voices fused to a unified garble again.

"Once I'm Hokage, I'll boot his ass in the most humiliating way possible," Naruto said. "He'll have forgotten the names of his grandchildren when I'm through with him."

"You think Danzō has grandchildren?"

Naruto paused his pacing and smacked the top of a crate with his flat palm, hard. "I didn't think of that."

"Evidently."

"I'll still kick his ass once I got the hat."

"If he's still alive by then," Sasuke said. He was content to let Naruto keep raving. The voice—if not always the content—was soothing in a sense. Back when they had brought him to Boeki Tōshi it had often enough broken through the shroud clinging to his mind, while he had seesawed between consciousness and the all-pervading red the Kyuubi had left him.

Behind them, the Hole exploded in a cacophony of shouts.

Then Sakura came jogging around the corner ahead, each step sending up a light flutter of sand. No chakra running through her soles, then. Sasuke would tell her later. The exercise wasn't necessary for her chakra control, but it increased mobility in the desert and made hiding tracks easier.

"Where's Kiba?" Sakura asked, coming to a stop.

"Hole," Naruto said. "Fighting, drinking, the works."

The hollering of the crowd penetrated the fabric of the Hole's backside with ease. It grew to a dizzying level, the current fight in its last stages, the roar now drowning out Team Seven as they talked, and they moved away as it swelled like a balloon and then was suddenly punctured by a scream, the balloon deflating abruptly, the Hole growing quiet.

"Is Kiba alright?" Sakura asked, looking over her shoulder at the tent.

"Probably not," Naruto said. "It's his way to cope, I guess? Can't say much about that."

Sasuke walked beside his teammates, saying nothing. He didn't much like the Inuzuka, but he had been there when Kiba had laid Akamaru on a pyre back in Konoha, howling like a dog the whole time, miserable as he put the torch to the oil and watched the pyramid of straw light up in an angry orange. He had been there, staring at the flames and remembering all the pyres that had once been built for the Uchiha, and the memory, far too vivid still, left him in agreement with Naruto. No one had any right to say how Kiba should cope.

"He'll make it," Sasuke said. "But we've got our own problems to deal with." He lowered his voice. "I'm not planning anything in this camp as long as there's a chance of Danzō or his people hearing us."

"Shard Wall, then?" Naruto asked.

"It's becoming too popular," Sakura said. "Remember last week?"

Naruto grinned. "You mean the pair having—"

"Yes, them."

They walked slowly, indecision keeping them back. They had left the Hole far away enough though, and the rumbling was dull now. Sasuke felt the onset of hunger form in his stomach and was about to steer them carefully toward a stall, when he noticed Naruto glance at him and Sakura.

"Why not Sasuke's brothel? He's got some contacts in the city."

Hunger forgotten, Sasuke struggled with a brief uprising of conflicting emotions on whether to strangle or stab Naruto. "It's not my brothel. I'm following orders."

"You're guarding a brothel?" asked Sakura, mad hilarity swirling behind her eyes. Sasuke didn't deign that question with an answer, and she was quick to continue, "An honest to God brothel?" A laugh escaped her. "I'd never thought you'd be the one Jiraiya-sensei's lessons would impact the most. And it only took him what, one month? …that's actually impressive, I have to say."

"Hn."

"Just remember to be careful," Naruto said. "You don't want things to get even more complicated."

"I'm standing guard."

Naruto nodded sagely. "For now you are, but I doubt even you, mightiest of Uchiha, can resist temptation forever."

"Won't your supervisor still be there? Can we even use it?" Sakura asked.

"Shift's been over for a while now," Sasuke said. "Maybe he left already."

"It's worth a try," Naruto said, stretching his arms, yawning.

They made their way out of camp and into Suna, keeping to the back alleys as they navigated the village. Strewn all over Suna were the lights of moving patrols, more at night than day, and as slovenly as the army at times appeared to Sasuke, he couldn't deny their overbearing presence on the streets. Danzō's mistrust ran far and deep, and leaving the conquered unobserved wasn't a state he could abide.

Through a small alley they reached the back entrance of the brothel, draped with red from every angle, like so many houses in Suna—definitely far more than Sasuke had ever noticed in Konoha or Tanyū. Sasuke rapped twice, and the door opened a few inches, a shaft of light falling on them through the small gap. Leeya smiled at them, dimples showing, eyes a dark brown, hair in a loose bun, kimono slightly askew.

"Sasuke-sama," she said, "you're back."

"Is he still in?" Sasuke asked.

"He's been drinking all evening. I don't think he'll stop anytime soon, I'm sorry." Leeya looked curiously at Naruto and Sakura. "Do you and your friends still want to come in? You could evade him somehow, I'm sure."

"Not today," Sasuke said. _Not as long as he's in there_.

Leeya sighed in disappointment, shooting Sasuke a look that made him acutely aware of his teammates still standing behind him. Then she nodded at all three of them, bowed gracefully, her kimono showing a fair amount of skin, and went back inside.

Sasuke turned, and before the light from the closing door vanished he saw the infuriating grin on Naruto's face. The urge to strangle him presently outweighed the stabbing—the latter was too quick and painless.

Sakura coughed. "Well, seems like that avenue's closed, Sasuke-sama."

"Have you actually been in?" asked Naruto.

"A few times, but—"

"—just to stay guard, of course, I get you," Naruto said.

They walked a few paces away from the brothel, keeping well away from the patrols. When Danzō had separated them with his flimsy excuse, he probably hadn't planned on them reuniting, even during their free time. It wasn't a given that if they were seen, the patrols would tell on them, or even know about informing Danzō, but Team Seven had become a bit more careful with tempting fate in the last months.

"We can't plan in the camp," Naruto said, pacing up and down. "Shard Wall's too popular, and the brothel is a no go too. There must be a place…" Naruto's voice ebbed away, and for a moment he stood staring at nothing at all. Then he turned to Sasuke. "Aren't you meeting with that old gal all the time? Chiko?"

"Chiyo," corrected Sasuke.

"What's up with that anyway? Isn't she a Suna-nin?" Naruto said.

"Retired."

"So what? That's still dangerous."

Sasuke shrugged. "We have an… agreement."

"That's beside the point," Sakura said. "It's far too late already. We can't just barge in an old lady's home and occupy it."

"We could," Sasuke said. "I've to go there anyway. She's still awake."

"How do you know?" Sakura asked.

"I simply do."

And, starting on the way to Chiyo's house, Sasuke took quite some pleasure in their frustration at his answer. Reaching the place took a lot longer than during the day though, as avoiding Konoha uniforms slowed things to an irritating degree. That they had to cross the village all the way up north didn't make it easier. The house was in the most northern part of Suna, behind even the Kazekage's former official tower, and was close enough to the mountains that one slide would bury it completely.

They walked through the low archway in the wall and entered into the courtyard that preceded the house. Chiyo was still awake, looking as grouchy as every other day Sasuke had met her. She sat on the edge of a dried out stone fountain, taking drags from a long-stemmed pipe.

Seeing them coming Chiyo puffed a last time, then laid the pipe away, narrowing her eyes. "You again, brat? Hounding me at night now, are ye?" The lamp sitting on the edge beside her chased shadows across her leathery face. "Find a home and leave me 'lone, boy."

"Hn. We need some space."

Sasuke was sure that would suffice, but Sakura stepped forward and inclined her head politely. "What he means to say—Chiyo-san, right?—is that we'd be grateful if we could stay for a moment."

Chiyo kept her eyes locked on Sasuke, lips pulling into a dry grin. "Who's the girl, brat? She's too polite for you."

Naruto laughed, and Chiyo's finger twitched in response; a second later Naruto, swept off his feet, was lying on the floor. "Quiet down, will you, boy? My brother's sleeping in there…if he's not dead already." The last part was murmured to herself.

"Got it," Naruto said, climbing to his feet, then whispering to Sakura, "Grandma's short a few marbles."

Sasuke was sure Chiyo had heard it, but she left the blond alone. She slid from the fountain, carefully collecting her lamp and her pipe, before shambling past them. "I'm goin' to sleep. You can have the yard, brat, but keep the noisy one under control, hear me? No noise! Or I'll come back out and you'll be sorry."

"Hn."

When Chiyo was just about to enter the house Sasuke fished a scroll out of his uniform and threw it at her back. It was caught in the air behind her, as if held by invisible strings, and she moved inside with it, never acknowledging that it had been thrown at all. Sasuke led his teammates to a corner of the yard from where they had a good view on the house and the archway to the street.

"You trust that lady?" asked Naruto, plopping down on the ground.

"She's a retired Suna-nin."

Sakura's hands immediately formed a seal. Privacy Genjutsu sprang up around them. Sasuke counted them—three in all for sound, sight, and smell. Not bad. Sakura would need to keep up the hand seal to sustain them all, but that she could talk coherently while doing so spoke volumes.

"What's with the scroll?" Naruto said.

Sasuke shook his head. In a few hours the sun would rise. They didn't have much time anymore if they wanted to get anything done. "I'll tell you later," he said. "Now, what've you got that's worth all this trouble?"

And as Naruto began to tell them, Sasuke really hoped that it was worth it. Not that he disliked the company, but he was tired and hungry, and if Naruto had led them on this merry trip for nothing he'd really strangle him.

* * *

Kakashi sat upright in his hospital bed, eying the little squares of moonlight entering through the shutters. He clenched and unclenched his fists and, after assuring himself of their working condition, he activated his Sharingan, before letting it fade out again.

The nurses had been helpful during the last month, filling him in on what happened in and around Konoha. They wove a tapestry of information that told him his peers—Asuma, Gai, Kurenai, even Tenzō—were fighting with the Sandaime, either against Kusa, Oto, Iwa, or all of them together. The tapestry, for all its detail, lacked three important threads, however, leaving a gaping hole in its middle. Team Seven was in Suna with Danzō—that much was common knowledge—but that wasn't the information he sought.

In the sparse times Tsunade visited him to monitor his progress he had asked her about them, and she would look at him, shake her head, eyes full of the information he wanted but lips sealed tight.

Why though? He had thought hard on it, trying to connect the dots and ultimately coming to no conclusion. He was an Elite Jōnin, had served as ANBU and personal guard to the Hokage, had been tasked with training the most volatile team Konoha had to offer. He had a level of clearance that was only dwarfed by the Hokage himself, the Sannin, the advisors and maybe Shikaku. Why wasn't he told?

It frustrated him, more than he thought possible.

But not anymore. He had tried following the official channels and that had yielded no results at all. He didn't understand why Tsunade kept the information from him, but he knew that he needed them, and that this need went far beyond idle curiosity. What drove him wasn't easy to put into words. Guilt, perhaps, but that too was insufficient to describe it.

One after another Kakashi took off the bandages around his head, placing them on the table beside his bed. He slipped out of the hospital wear and into the casual blue and black garb Shizune had brought him. No vest for now. He'd only get that one back at the requisition office. At least they had left him his headband.

He slanted his forehead protector across his face, glancing at the windows. They had been equipped with a special Fuinjutsu that activated at night, ostensibly for the protection of the patients. Should he open them, one of the night-shift nurses would receive an alarm. He turned away. Leaving through them wasn't impossible, and if the situation were less dire he might go through the trouble, but not tonight.

He would take the direct route and deal with trouble as it arose. He hadn't returned to old form quite yet, but the strength at his disposal should suffice to get the information he needed.

The hallways were lit by garish fluorescent lights—one more reason to hate hospitals—and Kakashi listened for noise as he stepped out of his room, closed the door, and began walking through the hospital. There were a few hushed voices farther ahead, but they came from the nurse station and didn't concern him. He took a corner, evading the nurses. He jolted when he heard the sudden onset of sprinkling water.

He looked to the side; the noise came from the room with the communal showers. Pulse slowing he went on, thinking, _Who the hell showers this late?_ and had almost made it to the atrium when he heard the clicking of heels behind him.

Looking to his right he found a door. He seized the knob and turned; it was locked.

He threw the door a frustrated look. Judging from the distance of the heels he didn't have the time to break the lock. At least the footfall sounded differently than Tsunade's or Shizune's. He had learned to identify them quickly.

Kakashi turned, lifting his forehead protector. He didn't want to use it on a someone from Konoha, but the circumstances left him no choice. Today he would learn what his team did, and there was nothing that would stop him. He waited until the nurse rounded the corner and came into sight, then he activated his Sharingan.

Her mouth opened—either to scream or shout in admonishment, he couldn't tell—but his Genjutsu was faster. A second later the nurse led him through the corridors, toward an exit reserved for employees, by-passing the atrium completely.

Once they were outside, he modified the illusion. The nurse went back to do her rounds; tomorrow she would have forgotten all of this.

Kakashi took a minute to bask in the feeling of freedom that accompanied leaving the hospital. He listened to the rustling leaves from above, took in the bark of a dog some distance away. Then he moved away from the building and, taking many detours, avoided the main roads and his fellow shinobi at every turn. It felt odd sneaking around in his own village. Reaching the Hokage Tower only made him more conscious of that.

This time of night only two guards stood in his way. They were staking out the usual entrance points, and one of them routinely vanished to patrol the insides before rejoining his partner. Kakashi waited until the woman went inside, then threw a bell in a high arc toward a trashcan a few yards away.

As the bell hit the bin with a chime, Kakashi sucked in his breath, remembering that silent nights had a way of amplifying every sound.

The Chūnin checked out the noise and Kakashi slipped into the tower, dampening his chakra. He climbed the stairs to the office floor when the second guard crossed his path. A quick look with his Sharingan and the woman was well on her way. The pang of guilt fading he surmounted the last stretch of his journey.

The door to the Hokage's office was closed. From his time with Minato-sensei he knew that they were heavily protected. The moment Kakashi had become his child's guard though, Minato-sensei had shown him how to access the office without alerting anyone. Today would be the first time he'd use that knowledge. He couldn't help but wonder if his sensei would approve of it.

A melancholic grin tugged at his lips. The Yondaime's trust in him had been absolute, and years after the man had died Kakashi still didn't understand why.

Ridding himself of these thoughts Kakashi went five paces to the right of the door and put his palm on a precise location in the wall. Chakra surged through his hand; the door opened with a soft click.

He entered quickly.

 _Better get this over with as fast as possible_.

Inside the dark office Kakashi didn't linger. He went over to the door that led into the archive room. The seal to circumvent the protections was located at the bottom of the wall. Kakashi crouched, searching for the little mark that would let him know where to direct his chakra.

His fingers had just grazed a little bump when black scribbles exploded outward from the wall, stretching through the office, crawling alongside the wall, the ceiling, the floor. They lit up a glaring blue. He felt the room seal itself. Then the spectacle of light died down and the lights overhead turned on.

Kakashi closed his eyes. Sighing he rose from his crouch and turned around.

Tsunade stood opposite of him, her expression stern, and Kakashi resisted the impulse to think on where he must have slipped up.

"Tsunade-sama," he said. "I had hoped to avoid this."

 _I really did_ , he thought. _But I'm not apologizing. Not when I don't know anything about them and they might be in danger and I don't know what they did and you won't answer anything about them._

"I can believe that," Tsunade said, grinning humorlessly. "What would you do if you had all the information you're looking for?"

The image of his team flickered through his mind, beaten and bloodied, still standing and defiant though. "I'd want to see them," he said. "As soon as possible. I'd want to… There's a lot I can still teach them."

There was a moment of silence. Then Tsunade moved. Her fist rushed at his head. He barely got away in time.

He tried to say something, but Tsunade was on him. He ducked under another punch that was entirely too close, staggering over to the couch in the corner. She lashed out again, fist flying in a wide arc. He plucked a pillow from the couch, deflecting her punch to the side, the pillow exploding in a burst of fabric and stuffing.

"What are you doing?" he called out, rolling away from a kick, seeing her heel leave a fist-sized hole in the ground. Another pillow fell to the ground in pieces, and he vaulted over the desk nearby, Tsunade following, each reckless move to get away driving pain up his spine, setting his limbs on fire.

Then they were back at their starting positions, his breath running ragged, spit gathering in his mouth.

"I know you, Kakashi," Tsunade said, walking toward him, right wrist rotating lazily. "No matter what I say, you'd try to reach them immediately. Comrades, right? That's the kind of person you are."

Kakashi's lungs burned far too much to offer a reply to her glowing character assessment of him. Then she came at him again, low this time, and Kakashi tried to weave away, relying on his Sharingan to avoid her punches. One after another they landed, each hit rousing his bones to rebellion against the abuse dished out.

Her fist found his stomach at last. He buckled, sinking against the wall at his back, the spittle in his mouth landing on the carpet.

Tsunade bent down until their heads were close and he felt her warm breath on his face—he had expected it to reek of alcohol, but she was sober.

"This is the strength you want to show them? What you want to teach them?" Her quiet laugh vibrated in his bones. "Even if you were completely healthy, which you aren't, I'd still win against you." She took him by the scruff of his shirt and pushed him forcefully against the wall.

Earlier she had punched his Sharingan swollen shut, so he glared at her with the normal eye that remained functional. "You've made your point."

Tsunade loosened her grip, letting him slide down the wall. "Have I really?" she said, leaning against the desk, letting her words linger, voice low. "What can you offer them right now?"

Kakashi shifted on the floor, trying to find a position that didn't hurt. He wanted to lash out at Tsunade, if only with words. The vastly different quality of her voice held him back though. He closed his eyes, ignored the pain, and conjured—for the umpteenth time—the image of his team in his mind. He pictured himself beside them, teaching, offering advice…making them run through hellish exercises. Their complaints would be exquisite. But he wasn't satisfied with that alone. He couldn't be.

So, what _could_ he offer them? That's what Tsunade had asked him, and he found that beyond his company—which was a questionable feature in itself—there wasn't much, not really. Could he be content with being just a teacher? They were his students, but it had never been his goal for them to remain as such. He had always striven to make them equals, even if his means might have been extreme. Would they even need a teacher now? Or did the challenges they'd have to face demand something else entirely?

Kakashi opened his eyes and glanced at the woman who had used him as a punching bag. She was still leaning against the desk, looking down at him with inscrutable eyes. Kakashi reclined his head, feeling the wall behind pulse with a coldness he welcomed. His company was all he had to offer them at the moment. And that, he realized, was worth next to nothing in this world. At least not with how he was right now.

Tsunade broke the silence first.

"I will tell you what they did, Kakashi," she said.

His eyes widened.

She crouched beside his battered body, hands glowing green as she began to heal him. "But I won't let you leave," she said, "not like this." Her voice was much gentler now, soothing. "I read the reports, you know? I healed them, and I was at every debriefing they had over the months."

Her words left him bitter for a moment. There was so much he had missed out on. So much he should know…

"Your kids went through hell and back for you, Kakashi," she continued, almost wistful. "They did something even Sarutobi-sensei thought impossible." She paused, staring right at him. "I won't let you dishonor that sacrifice, that incredible achievement, by leaving this place half-assed and without a plan. They deserve better than that."

Kakashi sat up gingerly. He couldn't deny that learning his team had convinced even her of their worth made a strange feeling form in his gut. Calmer now, and with the pounding in his head lessening he asked, "What do you have in mind?"

Tsunade went over to a cabinet at the far side of the room, returning with two porcelain bottles. She handed Kakashi one bottle, then sunk down the wall herself, joining him on the floor.

"First, we drink and I'll tell you what your brats did," she said, taking a large gulp. "Then you will go back to the hospital, where you'll lie in your bed and thank every deity from Jashin to Amaterasu that they're still alive after the stunts they pulled."

The sake burned pleasantly in his throat. Kakashi's lips twitched. "I will."

"Of course you will," Tsunade said. "Because I said so."

There was a measure of truth to that, Kakashi acknowledged. His still lightly throbbing wounds could attest to that. She was a rather assertive woman.

"What happens once I'm fully healed?" he asked.

Tsunade was silent for a moment, rolling the bottleneck between her thumb and index finger. Then she glanced at him; there was something heavy in that gaze. "Say, Kakashi," she said, "are you satisfied with how strong you were before all this?"

"Until I met them, yes," he said. "After that? Not so much."

Tsunade took another gulp. "Good."

"Mhh?"

"I'm not just a medic-nin," she gave as way of explanation, "and it's time that I get back to my old strength…especially with all that's happening right now." The last part was murmured more to herself than to him, he felt.

"Are you proposing—"

"I am," she said, emptying the bottle.

"Okay," he replied.

And sitting amidst destruction, next to the strongest woman in Fire Country, maybe even the Elemental Nations, Kakashi found that he didn't have it in him to disagree. He drank his sake, felt his battered body, and wearily grinned at the ceiling. Their methods of convincing someone were roughly the same, after all. Strange to be on the receiving end for once.

* * *

 **AN:** I hope you enjoyed it and, as always, all feedback is appreciated! Also, thanks to the DLP crowd for their services!


	4. Crossed I

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Crossed – I**

* * *

" _It's a rather disturbing comfort," he said._

* * *

In the following morning different shades of violet stretched in stripes across the horizon. Far to the South, clouds were lazily drifting forward to shake hands with the sun. Naruto climbed out of his tent, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. He fixed the sky with a sullen glare, then went over to a nearby barrel, splashing his face with cold water. The night had been far too long, and Danzō rose notoriously early, expecting the same from his aides.

Naruto slipped into his vest and made for the command tent, breaking a ration bar in two, chewing the first half of the emergency snack. Officially it was supposed to taste like raspberry, which made the development department in Konoha consist either of idiots, liars, or both. None of the food distribution centers in the camp opened earlier than an hour from now though, and the blue-roofed bakeries, vendors and butcheries in the village were too far away to reach in time.

Chugging water from a canteen Naruto washed down the last half of the dry bar just as he rounded the corner and found Danzō standing ramrod straight, hands resting on the head of his cane.

"Uzumaki," Danzō said.

The clipped nod and gruff voice blasted away any sleepiness still residing in Naruto. They met the first time now since the debacle last evening, and the risk of latrine duty or something worse wasn't that farfetched.

"Morning," Naruto said, falling half a step behind Danzō as they began crossing the camp toward the advisor's tent.

"A month and you still lack manners. I did not expect you to be this obstinate."

"Good morning, sir," Naruto said.

The correction going unacknowledged by Danzō they passed the rows of medical tents, no further bid at conversation coming up from either of them. It was really much too early in the morning. There wasn't a soul awake, aside from the few night-shift guards that were always up, and Naruto spent the way to Shien thinking of an animal that might fit a constantly discontent man like Danzō. A narwhal maybe? He could use the tusk as a walking-aid, and in the right circumstances it could spear an enemy too.

Near the Hole Danzō slowed and took measuring looks into a row of barrels.

"Have you kept up with your other duties, Uzumaki?"

"Playing the tap for everyone in a radius of two miles? I did when I had the time, yes," Naruto said, thinking, _Narwhals are far too beautiful for a stinking old man like you_. _Go and drown in that barrel._

Danzō circled the cluster of barrels, now and then supplementing his inspection with a deep tone rising from his chest. Naruto felt his jaw twitch. He counted to ten in his head, trying to appear nonchalant. Counting worked better than deep breathing—Danzō would notice the latter, and Naruto didn't want to give him that satisfaction.

"I heard you acquired a title from your peers," Danzō said, face revealing nothing bar indifference to the world as they resumed walking. "This is not unusual in times of war. When a shinobi has proven himself to be an expert, his comrades are quick to honor him. An old tradition that has spawned many notable and feared names."

Nodding tightly, Naruto kept walking beside him, holding back the insults he'd like to fling. In two words the 'Yellow Flash' reminded of immeasurable strength; three syllables, and a title like the 'Professor' conveyed dignity and wisdom far across the borders of Fire Country. 'Waterboy,' in comparison, told the story of menial duty. As the saying went right now: One barrel a day kept the thirst well away.

Still, Danzō really liked pushing buttons today, and gratitude welled up inside Naruto when Shien's red tent came into view. In the battle of wits between Danzō and Shien, the former would hopefully have his hands full. The startling emergence of Danzō's disfigured sense of humor threw Naruto more off his game than he'd like to admit. He liked the silent Danzō better.

Shien's tent tripled every other tent around it in size. He rested on a chair in front of it, periodically reaching into a bowl of figs while watching his entourage roll up the red cloth and dismantle the wooden posts, loading them onto carts. To the side of them, tied to a railing, a congregation of horses, bay colored, clean limbed and with muscular flanks, tugged at their bridles.

Five soldiers were guarding Shien. Lightly armored—only leather and mesh. Ornamented spears: for decoration. The swords at their hips were real though, leather handles worn down by age and use. In all, he would be able to kill them in about fifteen seconds if it came to it. Shien showed arrogance rivaling Komon's, but asking for protection from Konoha had been the right choice.

"Shien-dono," Danzō said, as they neared. Shien rose from his chair, leaving the figs alone. Naruto felt a brief surge of envy at the food. He contemplated stealing a bunch, but with Danzō close by decided against it.

"I assume everything is in order?" Shien's eyes never strayed from Danzō as he washed his hands in a bowl a servant held up for him. "The Daimyo is not a man to be left waiting, after all. I am sure he is anxious to hear my report."

"You can proceed as planned," Danzō said.

Toweling his hands Shien turned to his entourage, telling them to hurry up and meet him at the camp's southern exit once they had finished packing. Then he uttered a sharp whistle, and his guard joined him on his way to the gate.

"Let me inspect the team then that you believe to be sufficiently skilled to protect me."

"They are waiting and able to set out whenever you are ready," Danzō said, leading the way. Naruto trailed behind the group, shooting a big, inviting killer of a smile at every guard that warily glanced at him, laughing inside when they jerked around, facing forward again, eyes narrow and expression severe, their spears bopping up and down with each step.

As they closed in on the gate, his amusement about the guards' behavior waned, and his pulse quickened. He clenched and unclenched his fist, piling on positive thoughts about how good life would become once there was some distance between him and Danzō. The plan couldn't go wrong. It was, after all, the brainchild of Team Seven and included all the right ingredients for success: simplicity, unerring logic, and a light touch of insanity.

At the gate Danzō introduced the team of Chūnin that would accompany Shien, and Naruto surveyed them critically. They were fit and held themselves rigid, shoulders straight, eyes on their protection detail, vests immaculate. Nothing else unusual. Chakra capacity, as far as he could sense, normal for the rank. Lightness entered Naruto's chest. This was perfect. No way in hell Team Seven wouldn't be able to top that.

Because if one thing stood out from yesterday's discussion between Danzō and Shien, it was the latter's special requirements. The first try to get Team Seven involved had failed because of prioritizing the wrong way. Being geographically savvy in this country came only as a distant second to Shien's first—and to him most important—demand: that the team escorting him could pound attackers to kingdom come.

That's all there was to it. The advisor feared for his life—rightly so—and in the heat of the moment, seeing the chance present itself, Naruto hadn't thought clearly on how to reel him in.

Naruto kept his foot from jittering against the ground, eyes peeled. This had to be perfect.

Presently Shien was pacing up and down the line of Chūnin, as though looking for spots of dirt that would justify asking for a second team. At length, turning back to Danzō, he sighed and said, "That will be acceptable, Dan—"

The ear-stabbing noise of an explosion swallowed his sentence. His guards drew their swords, but Naruto was faster. Earth vibrating with the force of a second explosion he positioned himself in front of the advisor, kunai ready.

"Please stay down until the area is safe again, Shien-dono."

"Is the camp under attack?" Shien asked, and when Naruto glanced down he saw the advisor blink rapidly, lips trembling, eyes flitting left to right, taking in everything around him, looking for an escape.

 _One could think he's got an eyeful of Danzō's junk._

A third explosion rocked the desert before them, the ground vibrating, a fountain of sand shooting up in a massive spray. Shien's robes were fluttering in the wind from the blast and, straining his eyes, Naruto kept his lips pressed tight to avoid grinning as he saw Sasuke and Sakura go at it.

"Ah," Naruto said, relaxing his posture, ignoring Danzō's shrewd look. "I'm deeply sorry, Shien-dono."

Sasuke shot a fireball the size of the Hokage Tower at Sakura, the heat from the carpet of fire blanketing Naruto even this far away. Naruto stowed his kunai in the holster at his leg. "I forgot that my teammates use the desert to spar from time to time. There's no place in the camp for them to fully utilize their techniques."

Responding to the rolling front of fire heading straight at her Sakura pressed her hands on the sand. Moments later she shot up, footing secure on a stone pillar exploding from the ground. A second pillar matched the first. Sakura used it as a stepping stone over the flames and toward Sasuke, hurling a row of exploding tags at him, before rocketing down in his direction herself.

"Again, my apologies," Naruto said, bowing to Shien. "I'll stop them immediately."

A last glance at the calculating glint that was conquering the fear in Shien's eyes, then Naruto was off, leaping toward his teammates.

"Oi! Stop it!"

Sakura and Sasuke were embroiled in a close-up fight, their bodies one violent flow of rhythmic action. Naruto landed between them, deflecting their attacks away from each other.

"Is he buying it?" Sakura mouthed as she attempted to sweep Naruto off his feet.

"Yup," Naruto mouthed back, using Sasuke's shoulder as a platform to vault over them.

Sasuke and Sakura slowed down imperceptibly, and in a short but brutal maneuver Naruto brought both of them to heel, shouting, "Get a grip, you two!"

They stopped short, rising from the ground as if returning from a hazy place, following him in a docile fashion to the group waiting at the gate. Unsurprisingly, Danzō's expression showed that he had cottoned on to their little act, even though he displayed no overt signs of displeasure. It was all in how his eyes never left them. In contrast, Shien couldn't quite decide whom to look at, Team Seven or the Chūnin supposed to protect him.

 _Phase one, success._

They took up position in front of Shien, Sasuke and Sakura bowing in deference, the advisor gathering his bearings.

"We are very sorry for this, Shien-sama," Sakura said. "It wasn't our intention to scare you."

"Easy to get lost in fighting," Sasuke said, sounding demure almost. "My apologies for this transgression."

Shien stared down at them. "What are your names, shinobi?"

"Haruno Sakura."

"Uchiha Sasuke."

The last name evoked a momentary widening of Shien's eyes and a closed-lipped smile.

 _Phase two, success._

"The Uchiha from Konoha I presume?" When Sasuke nodded, Shien addressed Naruto, "And they're your teammates?

"They are," Naruto said, offering a quick salute. "Team Seven, trained by Hatake Kakashi and Jiraiya of the Sannin. Again, I am very sorry for this."

"No matter, no matter," Shien said. "Nothing came off it in the end." Turning to Danzō, "It appears as though I have to ask for a slight change of our original plans. I will, of course, restrict myself to one team as agreed, but I'd rather it be these esteemed shinobi."

Danzō, who had observed the spectacle in silence so far, spoke tilting his head, voice the same cadence as always. "Are you quite sure? They are Chūnin as well, but they lack the experience of the team I selected."

"Can you do the same?" Shien asked, looking at the team of Chūnin.

They exchanged unsure looks, and before any of them could speak Shien took that as his answer, green robes sweeping wide as he turned back to Danzō. "I think I will be fine with Team Seven."

After a moment of contemplation Danzō said, "If that is your wish, I will agree to it. Their duties in the camp were of importance however. I will require the rest of the day for them to work in their replacements. Can you delay your journey until tomorrow?"

Shien nodded emphatically, and Naruto choked down his laughter. Not the time, he told himself. Though apparently making the Daimyo wait wasn't as much of an éclat anymore. "If it is truly necessary," Shien said, "I will wait. There is nothing quite as important as a good protection detail, would you not agree?"

"Just so," Danzō said, casting a heavy look at Naruto. "Team Seven, you are dismissed. You know what you have to do."

The command—same old inflection—sent a momentary shiver crawling down Naruto's spine, clouding the sense of achievement with the knowledge of trouble soon to come. Still, they had done it. Shien would take them to Sukoru, away from Danzō. They could deal with the repercussions when they returned. Danzō might have calmed down by then, and maybe Jiji might have even won the war already.

Once they were through the gate and out of sight Naruto looked at Sasuke and Sakura, allowing an easy smile to spread on his face. Then they crossed paths with Shien's entourage, who had saddled the horses, laden the carts and the ornery carriage, and were on their way to the gate. Poor sods would have to put up the tent again and repeat all this a second time tomorrow.

* * *

Entering the command tent Sasuke found it empty save Kotetsu, who was sitting bowed over a small table in the corner, an oil lamp hanging from a post shining light on a stack of scrolls, one lying unfurled in front of him. The array of maps in the middle of the room were illuminated by the two braziers next to them, fired up, reeling off tendrils of smoke.

When Team Seven entered Kotetsu held up a hand for them to be quiet. He wrote out the last line of Kanji, scattered sand over the ink, blew it clean, then rolled the scroll together, putting it next to the stack.

Then, stretching and saying, "What have you done now?" he was greeting them with a lazy grin.

"Probably angered the big man again," Naruto said.

Kotetsu massaged the kinks out of his hand, shaking it for good measure. "You should really stop doing that. Can't remember another team that poked him twice in a row. I'd say, most people see that he's not the easiest man to deal with and stay out of his way."

"It's not our fault," Naruto said.

"Isn't it?"

"Well, kind of?"

Sakura harrumphed. "He should mind his own business."

Content in letting his teammates carry the conversation Sasuke scrutinized Kotetsu. Last time they fought had been over a year ago, Team Seven losing handily back then. It had been humiliating. And it wouldn't happen a second time—a promise he now reaffirmed, spotting three hiding spots for weapons in Kotetsu's outfit, noticing the outlines of an inked seal peeking out under his right sleeve when he moved.

The fight was replaying in Sasuke's mind. It had been ages since he last remembered, but now he analyzed it again, seeing opportunities in the moves he wasted, finding ways to reverse the outcome; all that to keep more problematic thoughts at bay, which worked only for a minute at best, before he recalled, or rather was forced to recall, where they were, and why they were there.

"It's not that dangerous for me," Kotetsu said, bringing Sasuke back to the present topic, something about messenger duties between the scout teams. "I can walk the dunes just fine. It's tricky though. It's why so few are out there, scouting, mapping the way. Rebels don't make it easier."

"Have we lost many teams?" Sakura said.

"Few, but they're enough. Can't send out most of the camp, that's the problem. Nothing against you three, but most here aren't that experienced. They might be good in the forest, but this desert takes getting used to, and until you're used to it there's no need in sending out people to die. It's driving him up the wall."

"Him?" Naruto asked, stooping and shambling forward as if walking on a cane, adjusting his expression accordingly. Sasuke found it was a remarkable imitation. That's the result of one month, then. Keen observation, though maybe not so keen after all, and a new range of grumpy faces to make.

"Him," confirmed Kotetsu. "He's not much for showing it. If he talks everything is well in hand, of course. Anyway, I've to go now. Teams to visit, messages to deliver. This place would be lost without me. Lost, I say," and as he was saying it he was exiting the tent, momentarily peeking back in to wish them good luck, and then being gone for good.

"He's… chipper," Sakura said.

"Well," Naruto said, "he knows we're on the execution block. Nice chap, wanting to cheer us up and all."

"Hilarious," Sasuke said.

"You were looking at him like a piece of meat," Naruto said, grinning. "A juicy one that can be hacked into pieces. Don't think I don't know you want to fight him badly."

"He's right," Sakura said. "That was a bit impolite."

"Hn."

The good mood in the tent held up for another two minutes, then Danzō arrived, tenseness spreading like smoke in a closed room. He shuffled over to the wooden stool Kotetsu had sat on while writing, seating himself, cane parallel to his face as he looked at them.

Sasuke was morbidly curious about the kind of punishment Danzō would devise for them, now that they were out of reach for the next month at least. Though a month sounded like far too little time away. Earlier the achievement had felt more profound. They had succeeded. But a month really was only four weeks, and four weeks made up of roughly thirty days were over quick. After that they'd be back in camp, and the war probably wouldn't have been won by then. One month of freedom and unity, even in the company of civilians, had sounded much greater a victory before.

Danzō didn't talk, didn't dish out lecture and punishment in one go. He eyed them through his one gray eye and said nothing. No muscle in his face twitched. He simply sat, staring. From outside came noise in all fashions: the clank of a hammer, laughter, clapping, a high whine, the bark of a dog; somewhere a horse was neighing; a woman with a horrible voice was singing an old children's song from Konoha. All these sounds seeped through the fabric into the tent, filling it, and yet they all appeared dulled to Sasuke's ears. As if they were incapable of being louder than the man sitting in front of him.

More minutes passed and Sasuke chanced a glance at his teammates. They stood as rigid as him, awaiting the reprimand that inevitably had to follow their actions. He looked back to Danzō. The eye was now fixed solely on him—or had it already been like that before? A growing heat was going out from the brazier beside Sasuke. He didn't have to touch his neck to know that sweat covered it from side to side.

Was Danzō still deliberating their fate? He didn't look that way, but Sasuke wasn't sure he'd be able to recognize it even if he was. The smell of stew wafted inside, mixing with sweat and…perfume? Sasuke stared back at the Councilor. The worst case was that he'd pry Team Seven apart again after their escort mission. Or was there something else, something he was missing?

… _and when the night then falls, the trees grow large and strong…_

… _come to Konoha's garden, to where we all belong…_

Couldn't that woman keep quiet? How long was that ridiculous song anyway? He really wished time would speed up if Danzō planned to keep on staring at him. The singing only got louder and worse.

… _and when the leaves then color; in yellow, orange, red…_

… _dance under them, and sing and laugh; never though be sad…_

Something soft rubbed against Sasuke's foot, then it went away. Fur? The urge to see what had moved against his skin almost drove him to look away from Danzō. It had been a mouse, probably. A desert mouse, nothing more. Still, the gray eye was fixed on Sasuke, as if it had never done anything else.

Then Sasuke saw Naruto's hands twitch from the corners of his eyes. And, as if a spell had been broken, as if that had been the sign he had been waiting for, Danzō slammed the butt of his cane into the sand. It seemed the loudest noise Sasuke had ever heard.

"Team Seven, your lack of subtlety is regrettable." Danzō was looking at his cane, and Sasuke breathed an internal sigh of relief as the eye was directed at something else. "Your plan worked, but it was painfully obvious what you were doing. Do you truly believe the Daimyo's advisor will not have noticed this split?"

The moment of respite ended quickly as it had come, Danzō's gaze settling on them once more. "Have you not listened when I told you that there is one thing beyond all else that we have to show?"

There was no need for him to name it. Unity. Sasuke hadn't forgotten a word from the lecture Danzō had given them before prying the team apart. He was sure Naruto and Sakura hadn't either. Though Danzō had also talked of necessity and loyalty, and they had shown that—if only to themselves. For Sasuke it was necessity to be with his team, and it was loyalty to them that dictated just that.

Danzō stood up and went over to the table with the maps, leaning his cane against it. "Hiruzen praised you for your strength of mind and body," he said, pulling a small book out of his robe and putting it next to the map. "Today I saw nothing of the former and an unwisely used amount of the latter."

His back turned to them, Team Seven had a chance to exchange bewildered glances. He was chewing them out, but in a fashion that seemed tame in comparison. The silence at the beginning, the feeling of uncertainty, had felt like punishment—more than his words in any case.

"You cannot always use brute force to reach your goals," Danzō said, turning back, "and as shinobi of Konoha, the lesson of achieving more with less should've been taught to you from infancy."

Then the silence was back, and he was staring at them again, and Sasuke felt as if the tent grew smaller even though he knew, rationally, that it stayed the same, just as he knew that time didn't really slow down even if it felt like that. There was a strange tingling in Sasuke's hand, and for a moment he suspected a Genjutsu, but he'd be able to identify those, even from a shinobi like Danzō.

Danzō continued, and Sasuke hated how it made him feel relieved.

"It seems futile to argue further on this," Danzō said. "It will be a lesson you will learn yourself. Pray that you do before your comrades pay the price for your mistakes."

Danzō nodded at the map and Team Seven stepped over to the table. "Tomorrow you will accompany Shien-dono to Sukoru," he said. "He is a demanding man, but I am sure you will manage." There was a dry sort of amusement in the tone, barely noticeable if one didn't listen closely. "Of importance to you, however, is not just his safety, but also the Daimyo's court itself."

Danzō was leaning on the map, palm pressed on the area around Sukoru, fingers blotting out the symbol of the capital. "The Daimyo is a respectable man. As an overt expression of gratitude he is sure to invite you to stay for a while. In that time he will try to form a bond with you as a representation of Konoha. He will also want to confirm what Shien-dono reports. You will oblige him in this."

"What do you want us to find out?" Naruto said, now leaning forward himself, an intense expression on his face as he stared at the map. He had found his courage, then. Or he was used to the man by now. Either way, his voice lifted the spell that Sasuke had felt himself fall under.

"Nothing too dangerous," Danzō said, and somehow the comment felt like a slight. "During the conquest of Suna I lost contact with my informants at court and now have only Shien-dono's words to rely on. This is unacceptable. Information is the key, always. Without it, every action taken is a hasty one. Stay at the court and get a grasp of the situation. The Daimyo is the key to the pacification of the southern desert, which makes the anticipation of his movements a priority. There can be no surprises."

"We're foreigners," Sakura said. "How are we to find out anything?"

"He will want to know you," Danzō said. "There is also prior intelligence that the Daimyo and his family are not nearly as private as the royalty you encountered in Tanyū. You should have ample chance to succeed in your mission. This"—Danzō opened the book on the table—"contains information that will help you win the trust of him and his family."

Then he thumbed to the last page, which looked like a regular bingo book entry. A scarred man stared back at them. Gray eyes, face framed by a brown undercut but hair lengthening toward the back of his head where it spilled out into a ponytail held together by a small jade ornament. Chin beard, the rest all stubble. He looked grim, one scar cutting into his lip. The data told of high capabilities in Genjutsu, and more than sufficient power in the other shinobi arts. When Danzō took his thumb from the name Sasuke read: _Senyaku Fushigi – S Rank_.

"I am sure you have already heard of him," Danzō said. Then he glanced at Naruto and Sasuke. "If you see that man, you will run. His appearance means an automatic abortion of the mission, are we understood?"

Team Seven nodded.

"You have your orders, then. Memorize the data and burn the book afterward. You will meet Shien-dono at the gate tomorrow at sunrise."

* * *

Far in the north of the Elemental Nations lay the Valley of Shimei. It housed one hamlet that kept the valley to itself and was so remote, affiliation to Earth Country was easily forgotten. The mountains offered protection, the springs relaxation, the rest of nature a feeling of contemplativeness that bordered on the transcendental. There was, in short, no better place, and many philosophical minds would have found pleasure in broadening their understanding of consciousness amidst this oasis of serenity.

Rōshi of the Celestial Mountain was no philosopher though, and increasing the scope of consciousness came as a distant second to experiencing the joy of the physical, the tangible, the fleeting feeling of satisfaction and the always following chase of just the same, repeating the process to infinity.

He still liked the place, even with being a brute and absent of all the qualities that made a great thinker, and knowing that fact laughing about it. Because what did it matter how you were happy as long as you _were_ happy?

"Is this alright, Rōshi-sama?"

He craned his neck to look at the woman kneading the muscles in his left calf. She was bent over, full concentration on her fingers digging into his flesh, black hair cascading over her shoulder, concealing the pale skin of her collarbone and cleavage that was proudly on display in the short silken kimono.

"Perfect," Rōshi assured her.

He was lying on his stomach on an obsidian divan he had created himself, enjoying the ministrations of two ladies from the village. The second one, older than her counterpart, wore a similar apparel but had striking blue eyes that shone with a teasing light and experience, and when she grew feisty flashed like diamonds on fire.

She placed heated stones on his back, then blew hot breath onto the nape of his neck and trailed circles around the stones with a branch of leaves. And as though coordinated to perfection, the fingers of the young woman burrowed deeper into his muscles just as the older one let the branch descend with a sharp whipping motion. His head jerked up, eyes widening by an inch. Then his head fell back onto the divan and he sighed in contentment.

This was life as it should be. One lady with hands led by the aggressiveness of youth; the other carrying herself with an air of refinement befitting of royalty. Later, once the sun would hide behind the mountain peaks, they would accompany him for sake and other forms of entertainment—

The ground shook. The round table next to the divan shuddered. A decanter tipped over, spilling honeyed Majia nectar first over the table, then sending it dripping down onto the ground where it spread through the grass. The serenity of the timbers nearby was broken by a shout of frustration.

Rōshi leaned forward, forehead touching the cool divan.

"Is the young master training again?" asked the young courtesan, looking at the tree line with uncertainty.

"He is," Rōshi said, heaving himself from the divan. "He's yet to learn how to behave like a normal person."

"It is quite alright," the older woman said. "He is still young." She put her delicate hand on his biceps and Rōshi, not above flaunting, flexed his muscles, throwing her a grin she returned with equal enthusiasm. "Shall we proceed to the bath, then?" she asked, leading him away from the divan, the young woman following, all three making for a beaten trail past the woods and up the hill.

Just past the forest, an outcry of rage sounded. The earth roiled again. Birds took flight. Rōshi ignored it, guiding the two women up the path and doing his best to occupy their mind with idle chatter. The night air was warm and good for pleasant conversation, and even better for a hot bath.

So he kept talking about the constellation of Shirem showing clearly against the cloudless sky, and how it stood for the Great Wanderer, a concept known to all who yearned for the freedom of traveling wherever their feet led them. He talked and he stole glimpses, and in between these things he thought on his apprentice who toiled in the woods, miserably chasing a blond specter that haunted him in his sleep.

What a familiar way to spend the day, subsumed in rage, training, and the intent to kill. Uncomfortably familiar. And maybe also the reason why Rōshi, despite disliking the Tsuchikage's order of training the boy, found an alien sort of kinship with him, having spent most of his life the same, drowned in an ever continuing cycle of revenge.

Not that there weren't benefits attached to the deal. For one, Iwa seemed to have forgotten them, which suited Rōshi just fine. Especially now, when the whole Elemental Nations were once more on the brink of full-out war. He and his apprentice were in such a remote location, even if Ōnoki that kooky old bastard wanted to find them he'd have a hard time of it. The people of the valley knew nothing of who he was beside his being a shinobi and training a young man.

Rōshi glanced at the profiles of the ladies walking beside him.

Another shout. A faint whistling growing louder. He leaped forward, fist encased in hardened lava, crushing the earthen spear that shot out of the forest. It broke from the tip onward into little chunks, turning to dust before reaching the ground.

"A second please," he said, imploring the courtesans to wait, then stalking into the woods.

He liked Daichi well enough, but if that moronic chimp succeeded in scaring away the evening entertainment there'd be hell to pay. Even for bought women the size of the purse stopped to matter once survival instincts kicked in.

Another spear. Rōshi struck it down with a single swipe, lips flattening into a thin line. He found Daichi supporting himself on his knees, sweating, breath heavy, standing next to a tall block of earth. Then Daichi was rushing through seals again, and the tip of a spear formed out of the block. Before the spear could fully manifest however, Rōshi smashed the whole construct to pieces.

Daichi fell back on his rear, eyes wide in surprise and looking up at Rōshi. "What was that for?"

"That was for almost killing a couple of civilians."

"Prostitutes again?"

Rōshi cuffed him, then laughed, hoisting Daichi up to his feet and clapping his shoulder. "Solid technique, son, but you've done enough for the day. Sun's almost down and you've no chakra left."

"I need more practice."

"And you'll get it tomorrow. Come now, we've two beauties waiting on us. This' no time to slave away in the woods."

Daichi looked as though he'd protest but then almost fell over from exhaustion. Rōshi reached out, steadying his apprentice. The boy had trained since dawn—no surprise then that the strength left him now.

"See?" Rōshi said. "Nothing to gain by forcing yourself today. Join us. You might like it after all."

Daichi gave a weak nod, then they were off, meeting with the two courtesans and continuing up the path toward the tarn at the far side of the valley. They passed a small, roughhewn shrine, nuts and apples piled in two wooden bowls on the fundament, an unlit candle and a pear-shaped bell next to them. Rōshi grinned at Daichi, who looked away in embarrassment. On their first trip past the shrine Daichi had taken an apple and a few nuts, being chewed out seconds later by a local hunter who had just put them there as an offering to Miha, the goddess of the hunt, and had been close by to see the act.

Farther along the trail was an overgrown stone arc and from there they cut through a stretch of tall pines that smelled of repose and peace. At the pond they lost their clothes, placing them on a boulder in sight. Rōshi was the first to wade into the water. It was cold to the touch and he circulated his chakra, heating the water until fine steam curled atop the surface.

Once inside, the group of four settled against a natural formation of stone reaching into the tarn, reclining their heads. The young woman slid over to Daichi, who spoke and acted as awkward as could be expected. Rōshi smiled first at him, then at the courtesan at his own side trailing her fingertips over the scars on his chest. Time passed, the last vestiges of sun finding a temporary replacement in the moon. Without moving, Rōshi coated stones near the edge of the tarn with lava, making them glow in the night.

After half an hour the courtesans excused themselves, rising out of the water, droplets curving down their bodies. They would prepare a late dinner and the beds in the room Rōshi had rented, preparing the place in general for what was sure to come. Now sitting alone next to each other in the water, Rōshi noticed his apprentice's faraway look that had returned after their female company had left.

"What's the problem now, son? This'll be a swell night, I promise. Food and women and sake—"

"This is wrong," Daichi said, abruptly standing up. "All of it." There was a sudden anger to his voice. "Ōnoki-sama ordered you to train me, but all we do is drink, eat, and fuck around."

Rōshi cocked his head, listening, then rubbing his brow. "Have you, in your infinite wisdom, ever looked at how strong you are now? At how you compare to the you I found shriveling at my doorstep? I've trained you, son. But there's more to life that fighting and dying in the name of nebulous crap like revenge or the honor of your country. Now relax. You'll be strong enough eventually."

" _He_ is training. I know it. And if I'm not strong enough to kill him, then all this is for nothing."

Rōshi suppressed the urge to slap sense into the boy. That blond Uzumaki guy killing Daichi's friend in Wave Country had done a number on him. Losing teammates always did, but day in and day out all Daichi talked of was putting that Konoha boy into the ground, and Rōshi questioned whether this Uzumaki even remember Daichi at all.

"Life's too short to always think about revenge," Rōshi said. "Not that I'm against the notion itself, mind, but there's a time for it." He made a sweeping gesture toward the hot water. "This isn't it."

Daichi grew quieter, less animated. "What do you know about revenge?" He looked down at the ground. "All you do is plough those whores."

Rōshi couldn't help it. He laughed a deep and vibrating laugh. "You know what I contain, don't you? At one point this whole world was my enemy and all I did was shred it to pieces. I've had fathers, mothers, sons, cousins, uncles, friends and everyone else after me for as long as I can remember. I killed them because I had orders, and then others came for revenge and I killed them too. But they got clever and soon they took from me, first this, then that. I returned the favor, of course, and so it went, on and on and on.

"You will meet that blond guy again, son. People always meet twice in life. And when you do see him again, unleash all your pent-up hatred on him. Until then, however, take whatever pleasure life offers you. That's the best lesson I can teach you. Shinobi deal in enough misery as is already."

Still seeing Daichi standing he said, "Now sit down and stop waving that shrimp you call a dick in my face." He laughed when Daichi rushed back into the water. That boy was too easy sometimes. But the random outbursts of rage excluded he was good company. Rōshi really had spent far too long without anyone to talk to—paid talkers didn't count.

Later that night, when the courtesans had done their job and Daichi was asleep in the room, Rōshi sat cross-legged on a boulder outside, puffing on his pipe and watching the red disk light up in the dark with each drag, around him a perfect whirlwind of smoke.

The cry of a Kian Eagle ripped the silence apart.

Rōshi closed his eyes. He had almost deluded himself into forgetting these avian royal messengers. The chakra sensitive bird circled him lazily before swooping down and landing on his shoulder. Rōshi unclasped the pouch fastened to the eagle's leg and took out a scroll, then read.

The scroll told pretty much what he had expected the moment he'd heard that blasted bird: Iwa came calling at last. His apprentice would gobble that chance right up.

For a moment Rōshi was dismayed. He had begun to take a real liking to this place and the peace and quiet. Eventually though, a grin slipped on his face. In the end this was just another act in the game of life and death shinobi liked to play so much. He had long since accepted every facet of his existence for what it was. And besides, his last good fight had been a while ago.

* * *

Five days into the escort mission Sakura had learned to hate the monotony of marching south. A mile to her right ran the Sweeping Mountains, an endless sheet of brown, and to her left hundreds of dunes swelled like burial mounds, all colored the same ocher. The sun was a harsh ball above, and four times now she had slashed a snake apart that had hidden in the sand waiting for an opportunity. Times weren't perfect, but she still liked it better this way than back at camp.

She was walking next to Shien's scribe, Joha, in the middle of the procession, the big cheese himself trailing behind them on his horse, watching everything with hawk-eyed suspicion. If only he knew that his eyes lacked the capability to detect anything should she want to hide something. But it was better to let him have his illusion of control. Soon the heat would become too unbearable for him again and he'd vanish into the shaded cart rumbling on a few yards farther back.

"…so my parents entered me into the Jikaa of Sukoru," Joha told her. "They didn't want me to die on some faraway field, I guess." He was a bit taller than her and a few years older; but mostly just limbs and awkwardness.

"The Jikaa?"

"Our school. Incredibly expensive, but it's the only way to get into a governmental position."

"Are there many of these schools?" Sakura asked.

Joha shook his head. "Just four. One in each major city. They're very prestigious, you must know. And all the applicants have to undergo a thorough vetting process—there are many people who want to learn in a Jikaa after all. Mostly it's those with either a lot of money, connections, or skill."

From the corner of her eyes Sakura saw the advisor wrinkle his lips in a grimace of distaste.

 _Go stuff it, you overblown turkey. I've had as much of your stares as I can stomach today._

"Have you ever thought of becoming something else?" Sakura asked, turning away from Shien and casting a glance at the front of their succession, where Sasuke walked stoically beside the host of grim guards. They disliked Naruto for some reason but had found value in Sasuke's silence. She supposed that was only natural though.

Joha laughed. "Becoming a shinobi you mean? Lord Odaya save me, I think I would not last a day, Sakura-san. The warrior life is not for me," he said, though his expression changed into something wistful. "I could have apprenticed with Soji-sama, a master weaver in Sukoru, perhaps—a good friend told me just recently my designs were of quite a high quality—but that is neither here nor there. I—"

A boisterous laugh from the cook of the entourage sounded a few paces behind them, interrupting Joha. Sakura didn't have to turn around to know that Naruto's antics about Ramen had elicited it. Since the beginning of their journey Naruto had migrated to guarding the rear of the group, where two horses were pulling a large wagon laden with provisions and the advisor's tent.

"I am quite happy with having forged my path through a Jikaa," continued Joha.

"I can imagine. It sounds like a good way to…" she trailed off, as a different color than brown and ocher became visible on the horizon. Green. And single spots of purple. She directed a questioning look at Joha. "What's that?"

"You mean the field? It's Dusk Sage. Pretty useful."

"Gaara was right," she said under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. What can you do with them?"

"Farmers feed them to their Sand Hogs. They're eating nothing else, and it's the only thing we can offer anyway. They're also used in medicine. There was a third use, but it's escaping me at the moment."

By now they were closer and Sakura saw that much of the field wasn't a field at all but a carpet of green stumps. Only a few single dusk sages still stood tall, height being about the same as herself, maybe a bit taller. The closer they came, the more it smelled of peppermint. The smell was sharp and came from the cut stems she was treading.

"This is strange," said Joha.

"What?" said Sakura. They were passing through the field now.

"I've never heard of a farmer cutting the whole field. Dusk Sages take a while to grow, so we ration them strictly."

"Illegal cutting?"

Joha laughed. "I wouldn't go that far. Maybe a Hog-keeper being overzealous. Who knows?"

Sakura was about to ask another question, when a sudden squall blew her hair free of its ribbon. For a second she enjoyed the cold wind, then her mind shifted gears and she noticed something glint on the horizon, the air filling with the buzzing of metal.

Ahead, Sasuke drew his sword. "Inbound!"

Sakura pushed against Joha, throwing the lanky scribe to the ground. Then she leaped in front of the advisor, knife clutched in her hand. Shuriken peppered the cart, ripping into the fabric. A kunai hurtled at Shien's face. Sakura swiped it away.

Too late did she see the tags wrapped around the handle of the kunai, which, once deflected, burrowed into the ground barely a few inches away from Joha, who was scrambling around, trying to make sense of the situation.

Sakura tried to shout but the tag lit up already, the boom resonating in her skull, and she was thankful that she had at least managed to save Shien with an improvised earth protection. Straining her eyes she glared through the dust the explosion had thrown up, and grew cold at the sight of the red smear that coated the sand where Joha had been. The cold changed to heat and she became angry but avoided another look at the blood.

"Stay down," she told Shien, who was crawling behind the cart. "Don't move from there."

She put an illusion around him, then turned back to the swirling sand in front of her. Shinobi approached, moving about like ghosts. Their beige-colored clothes made it almost impossible to see them at all in this sudden sandstorm.

She sensed three, four, five… six of them, and that on her end alone.

 _Hopefully Naruto and Sasuke will have a lighter load. God, it's been so long. Keep calm, Haruno. This isn't the time to panic. You'll do this like you've done everything else. This is nothing. This is—_

The first shinobi was in reach and she palmed the ground.

The pillar that shot out of the ground smashed into the shinobi's stomach with enough force to break his rib cage in half. His scream joined the noise of confusion around her. She slipped a knife into her hand as another shinobi closed in, ready to stick her if it meant survival.

This was surreal, she told herself. Team Seven's first life and death battle after a year of rest, and it seemed all too easy to slip back into the old mindset of bloodshed. Almost as though the past had tarnished them somehow, as if nothing they could do, no amount of respite, had the power to cleanse them completely.

One shinobi was right in front of her. She juked to the left, evading his fist. Her knife missed him but she kept moving—to the right, again to the left, then ducking under his kick and coming up again, knife coming from the blind spot. Blood sprayed her face; another scream joined the clangor. She smelled the iron and pulled back, weaving between the attacks of the other shinobi.

It felt rusty. All of it. But also so intensely familiar that for the fraction of a second she was scared of it. A sudden urge to turn and run bubbled up. Then she jumped over the horizontal slash of a sword, throwing a pair of shuriken at such an angle that they caromed off the man's headband, hurtling from there at another opponent's feet.

From beneath the hood of the hit shinobi came a woman's scream, high pitched and pained. As Sakura landed on the ground, she immediately rolled out of the way of an axe-kick. When she came up again a plated fist crashed into her face. She felt her nose give way under the force. The ugly creak of bones rattled in her skull and blood spurted over the rebel who had hit her. Before yielding to inertia and letting herself fall backward from the force, she stuck a knife between his thighs, watching him slump to his knees like a man in prayer.

Back hitting the ground she rolled to the side and then moved into a standing position, holding her bleeding nose with one hand, a new knife with the other, pain lancing through her body in short intervals.

Four shinobi were closing in on her, one of them limping.

She tightened her grip around the knife, shifting into a better position. As much as the punch hurt—and she'd wring that asshole's neck for that—she was grateful for it. A broken nose did wonders to replace the thoughts of running away with a thirst for caving in some skulls.

Grinning, feeling the blood run from her nose over her lips and tasting the iron, she threw the knife, hands flashing through seals for an illusion to distort their perception. Nothing made a knife fight easier than people thinking they had evaded your weapon when they didn't.

This was, in any case, the path she had chosen. She wasn't that weak a person to abandon it halfway just because it became more difficult to walk.

* * *

Naruto had just amused the cook with a tale of divine noodle broth when Sasuke's shout reached him. Then came the exploding tags. He grabbed the cook by the arm and jumped, pulling him out of the blast radius. Or not. Once Naruto had solid ground under his feet again he stared disbelievingly at the lone limb he held in his hand, the cook not having made it out of the blast radius despite his efforts.

Not having the time to think further on it he threw it at the first shinobi that came into range and sped through seals.

All he got for his effort was a little gush of water materializing in front of him. Nothing even close to being substantial enough to hurt a civilian, let alone a shinobi out to kill him. He scowled.

This was a load of horse shite. He glared at the incoming shinobi. So far he only saw two on his end. He could deal with that number in close-combat. Naruto threw himself forward and into the range of their fists.

A hastily thrown hook flew at his face. Naruto stepped out of range, letting it pass, then stomping forward, his plated-sandals smashing onto the feet of the Suna-rebel. The mummed figure screamed in pain and Naruto lurched to the side, ducking under a swing from the second shinobi.

Naruto jumped up, whirled around his axis and lashed out with his other foot. The kick met its target, sending one rebel flying. Before Naruto could land though, a strong gust of wind picked him up and threw him toward the cart with force.

He crashed backward through the wooden frame and came out on the other side. Half-destroyed, the cart tipped over and most of the provisions slid out the opening at the end. Naruto could feel splinters long as a finger in his back. Then he turned his head and came face to face with the dead eyes of Shien, who was lying behind the cart, three kunai protruding from his back, one sticking in his skull.

This wasn't good. From what little he saw, Sasuke and Sakura had to deal with a far more enemies than him. There were—what—fifteen, sixteen shinobi against them? Maybe more.

He scrambled to his feet. They wouldn't make it if they didn't stick together. He glanced at Shien, then saw a closed barrel in the cart about to roll out. He took the barrel, jumped out of his cover, and threw it at the incoming shinobi, which had increased in number by one already.

One shinobi kicked at the barrel, his foot smashing it open. The water inside gushed out and Naruto hurled as much chakra as he could gather at it. The amount of water tripled, enveloping the other two shinobi as well.

 _Much easier to work with water that's already there,_ Naruto thought, changing the seal from Hijutsi to Tora. " _Suiton: Mizuame Nabara!_ "

The water thickened to a glue-like substance, slowing his opponents down. That would hold them for a while. Naruto threw three kunai at their heads, turning around while they were still flying. No time to check for accuracy.

He broke off a long plank from the wooden frame of the smashed cart and wrapped all of his exploding tags around it before rushing over to Sakura.

"Up!" he screamed.

Sakura reacted to his voice immediately. She jumped and Naruto leaped to meet her in the air while hurling the wooden beam into the group of shinobi that had been bothering her. The explosion ripped the plank apart, spraying splinters everywhere, luckily none of them hitting Sakura.

Now on the same height as her Naruto took Sakura's arms, using his own momentum and hers to throw her in Sasuke's direction. She shot off toward a Suna-rebel on the ground, knife ready, and Naruto touched down shortly after, following her past the corpses of Shien's guard and hearing bits of glass break under his feet—the results of Sasuke's fight.

Arriving at Sasuke's position Naruto barreled into a rebel wielding a massive fan, smashing his elbow into the man's side and shoving him away, then continuing onward toward his teammates. Everyone but them was dead already, and he could see the same mixture of bitterness and crazy in their expression that must be visible on his own face. They couldn't win this, not against that many, and not at a time when only Sakura had her full strength available to her.

"Run," Naruto mouthed, and as one the three of them made for the dunes toward the Sweeping Mountains. A day of civilian speed would lead to a village, so as shinobi they'd be much quicker. Maybe they could shake their pursuers there, or hide in some mountain cavern.

They ran up the first dune as if Kakashi himself was behind them, air vibrating with the buzzing of shuriken. Most whizzed past them, but three got stuck in Naruto's back. He kept running.

They barely made it over the ridge of the dune, sliding down at the other side of it, when a blast of wind tore through the air above them. Naruto's eyes widened as he took in the path to the next dune. It stretched much longer than the first. They'd be running through open field for too long.

But there was no time to complain. They sped onward, moving faster than anything in the last year had required it of them. More kunai were flying. Their whirring echoed in his ears—amplified by wind chakra. He pushed Sasuke and Sakura forward. They staggered but didn't get hit by the projectiles, two of which buried themselves deep into Naruto's calves. One kunai grazed his side, slicing away a chunk of his vest.

Naruto chanced a glance behind him. Their pursuers were gaining ground fast. They seemed to fly over the sand while he had to use every bit of strength to keep pace in this terrain.

There were a dozen shinobi spread out behind them, all flinging their pouches empty.

 _We won't make it_ , he thought, and the certainty of it thrust through his body in a painful wave. _We might get over the next dune, but that's it. Another stretch like this and we're done. Goddamnit, we're done..._

When Team Seven finally arrived at the slope that led up the large dune his fear became tangible. Again the projectiles buzzed, and uphill neither he nor his teammates would be able to evade them completely. Injury would only slow them down even more.

Naruto was lagging a step behind his teammates, staring at their backs as an idea formed in his mind.

"Sakura!" he called out as they were nearly up the slope. "Genjutsu. Make them think the next barrage hit us."

Naruto heard the projectiles approach. Once more Sakura trusted fully in him. She sped through seals and they continued to run. Naruto felt the illusion take hold and kunai pepper the sand below and beside them.

"Sorry, guys," he said, both arms shooting forward, chopping at their necks and hitting the vagus nerve. Shinobi guarded this spot viciously. Not against their friends though, even if maybe they should.

He let himself fall to the ground beside their unconscious bodies, not looking behind him and, taking a kunai, slicing along his arm, blood fountaining out of the wound. He sprayed it all over the backs of his teammates. Enough that it would appear like a fatal hit if you didn't look closely enough.

Kyuubi would heal the slice, though he hated to think of it like that. Still, first he had to survive. Taking a deep breath Naruto jumped up and turned to the Suna-rebels who were almost at the bottom of the dune now.

There was always the possibility that they might check for his teammates' death afterward and would find them alive. In that case he'd lose. But there hadn't been many options to begin with. This at least had a chance of success, slim as it was. The rebels' goal had been Shien, not them.

 _I'll make sure all you're thinking of is me. You're dead men walking, assholes_.

Rushing down the dune he felt a roar tear out of his lungs. He evaded some of their projectiles, got clipped by most. They didn't slow him down. With a last dash he appeared inside their group and barreled into the first one in range.

He snarled, lashing out with a kick, then leaping at the next opponent, fists swinging. He stuck a kunai into one's leg, kicked sand at another and was hurtling toward a third the next moment. A fist hit his face; he went on. Words about killing his teammates spilled out of his mouth in rage, as he hurried from opponent to opponent in a frenzied madness.

Something penetrated his side. Then a knock to the head. He buckled. Naruto gritted his teeth and rushed up to meet the next attacker, but by now they had gotten themselves under control and predicted his erratic attacks. More and more blows met their target until, after a heavy kick against his back, he lay prostrate on the ground.

Two knees pressed into his back. He heard the Suna-rebels sigh with relief at having finally caught him and he grinned savagely at the thought of having made so much trouble for them. Some were taking off the veils around their heads, their tanned faces glistening with sweat.

"Let me go, you bastards!" Naruto writhed under the weight of the shinobi on top of him. It was purely for show at this point. "You killed them!" he screamed. "Let me go, I'll fucking murder you!"

"That's not much of an incentive for us, then, is it?" came a female voice to his side.

Naruto glared up at whoever had spoken. He was only momentarily surprised that the fan-wielder was a woman. There was a nagging sense of familiarity, but he lacked the time to search his memory.

He spat blood into the sand. "Let me go and I'll give you an incentive."

She shook her head, the heavy end of her fan following that gesture, knocking him out.

* * *

 **AN:** Hope you enjoyed it! My gratitude to the fellows over at DLP.


	5. Crossed II

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Crossed – II**

* * *

 _In the end, he preferred the wild swinging pendulum between intensity and calm to a permanent state of either._

* * *

Cold wind pressed against Naruto. The rustle of clothing and muted voices talking hovered around him. His head swung from left to right and back, bumping against something hard with each change of direction. Was this another dream? His eyes fluttered open, just a slit, shinobi instincts kicking in, and he remembered, feeling his insides quiver momentarily, then fearing even internal movement would alert his capturers.

 _Take stock of the situation, Uzumaki. Don't let the situation get to you. A Hokage can easily escape any time he wants. That's what makes him a Hokage. Now stay calm. You got out of worse._

He was slung over a big man's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, hands and feet bound by rope. An orange light shone in the dark evening sky. Through his sand-crusted eyes he saw two hazy specters walking behind the man carrying him, one holding a torch, their beige uniform coming into focus.

Had the rebels killed Sasuke and Sakura? He had left them on that dune, had done his best to draw the attention away from them. But had they been killed anyway, or been taken as prisoners as well? His stomach knotted itself into a tight ball at the thought. Maybe the rebels were carrying them, like him? He could check that. If someone was lugging around a second person their footprints had to be deeper. Keeping himself still on the man's back he glanced down at the sand. The footprints were visible only in the radius of the torch, and there the wind shuffled the grains around, smudging the imprints far too quickly to tell anything. Maybe they'd survive the capricious wind long enough for a search team to follow. A dim hope, but Naruto held on to it.

He felt a dull throb in his ears as he concentrated on the sounds around him. Nearby someone was sobbing quietly. He knew the sound. It came when the hours had passed and the body stopped yielding tears. A woman, but not Sakura. That meant nothing though. All of it meant nothing, even if it turned out that they hadn't captured his teammates. They still could have killed them, and there was no way to tell.

"It's alright," a male voice said. "There was nothing more you could've done."

For a moment Naruto froze, thinking the man had addressed him.

"He killed him!" came the harsh retort from the woman. Killing intent flooded Naruto's senses and he quickly shut his eyes. "He killed him," she repeated, weaker. "Why do we have to keep him alive? I want to stick that bastard on a pike."

 _You don't get to kill me, woman. And whatever that means for me later, right now it means that you don't get what you want after you attacked us and killed all these people, and Shien and the cook, and made me leave Sasuke and Sakura, and maybe killed them too, and I'm glad that I killed whoever you're talking about, and I don't regret it, hear me? I don't. I'd do it again if it meant you don't get what you want._

A third voice broke him out of his thoughts—the woman that had knocked him out.

"You know that's impossible," she said. "He's the first we caught alive, and what happens after the interrogation is up to Ren."

"I understand that, Temari-san, it's just…"

"I know, believe me, I know."

Temari? The name brought everything confused in his mind into sharp order and clarity. He knew that he had seen the woman before, and with the name he now also knew where. Gaara wasn't much of a conversationalist, but he had mentioned his siblings on occasion, Temari being the one who was the most afraid of his burden, but also the one who had tried more than any other to conquer that fear back then.

"Haru," Temari shouted. "Don't forget the sweep."

"Wouldn't dream of it." The man next to the shinobi holding the torch, a bulky fellow with a thick nose, flickered through hand seals. A blast of wind set the sand behind him to riot, destroying any chance of a team following the footprints. It had been a tenuous and unfeasible hope at best, but Naruto couldn't help the tightness in his chest at the sight.

But there was an upside to this whole deal. From all he had gathered so far it appeared as though they needed prisoners to interrogate. If that was the truth, and his teammates weren't with them, that meant his plan had worked.

He licked his lips with cautious hope. As long as Sasuke and Sakura were fine, everything was good. The insight wrapped him in a strange sense of calm. He tried cataloguing everything at his disposal: no weapons, that was a given; they also wanted him alive to ask questions, politely of course; and Temari was somewhere up in the hierarchy—where, he had no idea.

What about his chakra? He tried to access it, and suddenly his back and right biceps were hot with pain. He chanced a glance, seeing the outlines of a seal glow brighter than the damn torch they carried with them.

He had a curse ready. But before he could utter it, the heavy end of the fan crashed into his head a second time.

* * *

Sasuke felt a sting on his arm and dryness in his mouth, as if he had sucked in the heat of the desert in one go. Opening his eyes, he found a scorpion scurrying over his biceps and swiped it away. He watched it scamper off into the sand and lifted his hand to the small, red point it had left. He was still dizzy but instinctually enveloped the wound in a warm green.

The sting faded. The dizziness and thirst didn't. Where was Naruto when you needed him? Just a bit of water, and then this headache might vanish too. Turning to the other side he found Sakura lying next to him. But it was only her, and it took him a second to realize why, because his body hurt and his head hurt, and now his hands hurt too since he was clenching them hard.

They were lying at the bottom of a dune. He vaguely remembered having made it to the top before he blacked out—or rather before Naruto had knocked him out. They must have slid down while being unconscious. How much time had passed? It was night, that much he knew.

He shook Sakura's shoulder until she stirred and jolted up. Confusion was hewn into her face as she stared out into the distance. Then she tried to talk, but all she managed was a dry rasp. Noticing her broken nose Sasuke shushed her and aligned the bones with a sharp crack, healing and soothing the pain.

He helped her up afterward, and both of them kept quiet as they trudged up the dune, weaving slightly, Sasuke's legs feeling weak and his headache growing worse. At the top they gazed out over the desert, seeing darkness on some dunes, moonshine on others, a chessboard of sand unfolding into the night. The equilibrium of silence wouldn't hold for much longer. He felt weak and wanted to sit down. He continued staring ahead, narrow-eyed.

"That—" Sakura choked on the first word. Then she tried again, voice cracked and dry. "That selfish bastard! I will kill him when I see him again. I will kill him dead!"

She stomped her foot on the ground. For a second Sasuke wondered whether the dune would collapse, but the ground only heaved; the dune stayed whole. Her cry carried frustration and anger, and had inherent to it a helplessness that should have chilled him.

But to him it felt alien, as if he knew what was happening but couldn't feel it—a distance between him and reality opening up. It had felt like this since he awoke. And only after his mind had paced through every option, asserting that he had no idea where to find Naruto, did this change. The finality of the thought drove the last strength from his knees and he sunk to his rear. Emotions wouldn't hinder his search anymore; he could allow them now. And then they were there, suddenly, as if the distance had never existed at all. He felt anger tingling all across his body, and he gripped his wrist hard as his arms were shaking and his teeth chattering, everything now in perfect synchronicity with Sakura's cry.

It was hard to stem the flood of emotion. His thoughts were murky, and he needed water. Something to drink in order to function. Maybe he had just not looked hard enough for a way to find Naruto. He pushed himself to his feet, turning to Sakura, who was venting on the landscape. When he grabbed her shoulder she whirled around, eyes blazing, and he stared back, just as furious at his own inability.

"What?" she snapped.

"Battlefield," he said. "Maybe we'll find something."

That, at least, convinced her. The battlefield was how they had left it. The cart in the back was a heap of wooden planks and scattered fabric. The cart in front still stood on its wheels. The horses were victims of the first few explosions, missing limbs and other parts of their bodies. The whole area reeked of death and rot. Sasuke and Sakura rounded the perimeter but only found corpses: parts of the scribe, attendants, bits and pieces of the cook. Up front were the host of guards Sasuke had marched with. Nothing Konoha-affiliated had been touched, but there were no rebel corpses lying around. He pilfered a field flask from one of the guards, thumbing away the cap and guzzling down the water inside.

"Sasuke."

He searched the other guards for more flasks and then followed Sakura's call to the back of the intact cart. There, Shien's decapitated body sat slumped against a wheel.

"They took his head," Sakura said.

"Proof." Sasuke handed her a flask and crouched before the body. Shien's orange robe was smeared with blood that fanned out in a half-moon from the base of his throat toward his chest. It was a dark brown now, but earlier, Sasuke thought, it must have looked like an inverted sunrise. Shien's hands were furrowed with thick cuts. Crude work, but he expected nothing less from these sand dwellers for which he began to develop more than just faint dislike. The only reason they had taken them down, had taken _him_ away, found its root in a numerical advantage, a cowardly thing to do, and just thinking it made his blood race.

That the thought was entirely hypocritical had no meaning. Eventually, as he kept staring at the decapitated body, his stomach became queasy. He could deceive himself for long periods of time in order to act professional, but sooner or later the suppressed input whether sensory or emotional came back with brute force. He looked away, rising from his crouch and finding that Sakura had already moved on inspecting the insides of the cart.

"You expect to find anything in there?"

"Food," she said. "And more water—here, there's something—give me a second, and… got it." She lobbed a small bag over her shoulder. Sasuke caught it, inspecting the small thing. It was the size of a handbag and had an elaborate motif woven into it. "Take a look inside," Sakura said. "I think I know what it is."

Sasuke opened the bag and found a thin leather-bound volume. He threw the bag carelessly aside and thumbed to a random page of the book, staring at precise calligraphy shaping into nonsense.

"Abbreviations," he said. "Cliff notes?"

Sakura crawled out of the cart, a wineskin slung over her shoulder. "I saw Joha write in it at night."

"A report?"

"Probably not as extensive as Shien's. More like a diary? I don't know."

Then she stood beside him, offering him a drink from the skin and he found it filled with water. Silence came back, blanketing them. The survey of the battlefield was concluded, and now the important question couldn't be avoided anymore, at least not easily. For the better part of two minutes he kept sipping from the skin, because he knew he had no answer. Why couldn't that moron have kept running? Or at least letting them get captured together?

"What now?" Sakura asked eventually.

"Naruto," he said.

"How?"

The question that stopped every bit of determination dead in its track. Each time he had just convinced himself they would find Naruto, such a simple word shattered his conviction again.

"We have to find him," Sakura said. "He's out there, I know it. He isn't dead. Jinchūriki don't die that easily. They can't." She began pacing, up and down, up and down, her voice for now carrying the assurance he lacked, and he was grateful for the support even though she didn't know of it. "Searching the desert won't get us anything though," she said. "They covered their tracks well enough, I suppose."

That's also how far his thoughts had gone every time. "We have no idea where their camp is," he said.

"We found Kakashi-sensei."

Sasuke grunted. "With Kabuto's help. All we can do right now is go back to Danzō and report—" He suddenly stopped, looking at the book in his hand. The report. Or rather what looked like a report. He didn't rightly know since he couldn't decipher it. But maybe… "Sukoru," he said. "We can still go there."

"Shien's dead. Why would we go to the Daimyo?"

"The reports," Sasuke said, holding up the thin book. "He might still let us stay to answer questions."

"That's the mission. We need to find—"

"I know," Sasuke said. "And I like our chances for that better in the capital. We won't find him in Suna, Sakura. He's somewhere out there."

"You count on the Daimyo?"

"Not him. I doubt he'd tell us much. Who are we to him anyway? But if the capital is anything like Tanyū, then we've a chance. Aasim was fake, but there _have_ to exist people trading information. If we want to find them, a big city is the best place to ask around. There ought to be people who know where they are."

The train of thought had spun itself into a plan while he was speaking, and it made his words almost tumble out in relief that there was something that could be done. He couldn't remember the last time he had spoken that much in one go, and for a moment he was ashamed of this outburst, before ignoring that feeling and concentrating on Sakura.

Sakura agreed with a forced shrug, doing her best not to look at the desert even though that was impossible.

They began combing the wreckage a last time for something useful that would help them until they reached Sukoru. And while he reached between the planks, grasping at loaves of dark-brown bread, small bottles of oil, and a miraculously unscathed lamp, steadily glaring at all of his findings, he thought that once Naruto was back with them they would spar, and it would be a brutal, bloody spar that left no bone unbroken.

* * *

As she climbed the last dune before their temporary camp, Temari let her gaze swivel over the group behind her. The mission had started out with fourteen shinobi, all eager for the advisor's head. Nine came back. The proof for their victory was wrapped in coarse cloth, dripping blood and being carried by Kiro, a bundle the size of a small animal. Yes, they had the head now, but none of them had anticipated the difficulties one team of Chūnin could make. She was a Chūnin herself. It seemed ridiculous that three could hold out that long against them.

But maybe that was just because she had never had a mission before that wasn't smooth-sailing in a sense, either made so by Gaara or because of her former status as daughter of the Kazekage.

Temari took the last step onto the dune, and momentarily flinched at the sight she came upon. The camp, which had counted more than thirty tents before, was halved now, as if a giant had taken a scythe to it, sweeping one side away.

The kunoichi next to her puffed the sweaty, brown hair out of her face. "Again?" she said. "It's getting smaller each time."

Temari shifted the weight of her battle fan on her shoulder. Senyaku kept their forces in small groups that were easy to move around and hard to detect. It gave them the fighting power of an annoying needle, but in the desert their mobility paid off. With barely fifteen tents remaining, there couldn't be left more than seventeen, maybe eighteen shinobi. She prayed that Kankuro was still among them. There were multiple reasons for fighting in this rebellion, but staying near Kankuro was chief of them. Nothing hurt more than losing family, or being unable to save it.

"Trouble in paradise? You seem a bit under the weather." The cracked voice of their prisoner came from behind and was as welcome as a desert asp. He had gone in and out of consciousness during the trip, mostly keeping to himself when he was awake. Seeing misfortune on their side seemed to fire him up though. Now he was grinning at her from Kiro's shoulder, eyes lit with mockery.

Temari raised her arm when Kiro was about to clobber him back into unconsciousness. "He's not worth getting angry over. Let him walk the rest of the way." She shifted again so her fan wouldn't rub too much against the side of her neck, or press the sun-heated metal against her skin. Since her old fan had been destroyed in the siege of Suna, she worked with this newer, vastly inferior model. It functioned, somehow. But she quickly tried thinking of something else than the siege, a few verses perhaps, or a recipe. Anything that did not remind her of the tremor that had gone through her when a black wall as tall as a mountain had shot out of the ground, defending their enemies against something that should, by any criteria of reality, be unstoppable.

Beside her Kiro grunted and shrugged his shoulder. The blond rolled from his back, falling into the sand, and Temari observed him as he bit his lip struggling to stand up. He had almost made it when Kiro tugged at the rope they had fastened around the arms. The blond lost his balance, landing head-first in the sand.

The group laughed and Temari let them. Her thoughts were occupied with Kankuro again.

"Stop fooling around," she said eventually, moving down the dune. Staying up there wouldn't tell her about her brother, even though there was a kind of comfort in the uncertainty, small as it was. Behind her the group still laughed. She heard the thud of a body hitting sand, but continued on. At least the guy was silent now. Any more remarks and she couldn't guarantee for him to make it through the day.

In the camp, quite a few shinobi peeked out of their tents or greeted them if they were outside already. She heard her name called twice, and that of Kiro, but she barely listened to what they said, searching for her brother, ears pricked for his unmistakable voice, always half-annoyed and half-laughing when he greeted her. He always greeted her.

"Temari, you're back in one piece!"

The voice didn't belong to Kankuro. Ren stood in front of her. Now that half of the shinobi had left, he would be in charge. He was a tall man with short-cropped black hair, a stubbly chin, and a smile that was always present and most often just shy of being annoying. When he noticed the prisoner the smile widened.

"You got one?"

"And the head," Temari said. Beside her Kiro showed the bundle of cloth and after assuring himself of its content Ren ordered it to be sealed away.

Then Ren came to the part of counting their numbers and while his smile stayed fixed as if frozen in perpetual cheer, his eyes clouded over. "You lost five."

"They were strong." And she had done her best to occupy her mind with other thoughts than those five. It was a mindset easily cultivated in war, though maybe not the healthiest one. But it kept her together. If she were to feel the weight of every death under her command it would make her a good group leader, certainly, and it would also unmake her in that she believed no human could carry such responsibility without taking damage in some way. She had had enough of taking damage.

"I can attest to what the lady said." The wheezy voice came from the prisoner. "Believe me, taking us down ain't easy. You should give her medal or something. Pin it on her ass. She's got a fine one."

More than the comment about her rich posterior—and she knew all about its greatness—it was the sheer guts that surprised her. He knew they would punish him for the comment, and still he joked.

The next moment he was silenced by a rock. It left a red mark on his forehead and the blood streamed down his brow toward the nose, splitting in two little rivers there, before pooling in a dimple on his chin and dripping on the sand.

It had silenced him, but he still stared at them with enough challenge in his expression that she thought someone might really kill him right then and there. Tempers were at an all-time high, and who could blame any of the people around her?

Ren reacted before anyone got even an inch closer to the prisoner. "Don't kill him. He might have information we need." He pointed at a tent close-by. "Clear it out and get him into it. I'll have your hide if he meets Odaya before I can question him."

It was such a hypocritical act to use the name of Odaya, God of Tranquility, in a situation like this. But she knew that Ren prayed twice a day. Kankuro had talked quite animatedly about it one evening, spilling his Rakaji even while he told her of the search for a state of consciousness in which he would see things as they really were. He had been so obviously excited, even if he sounded like a melon hawker from Sukoru's streets.

Suddenly she felt Ren's hand on her arm. "Let's get you something to eat while you give me more details."

She was aware of Ren's hand on the small of her back as he led her toward the provision tent. She kept walking with him, throwing a last glance over her shoulder.

They had chained the guy to a post until they were done clearing out the tent. Some stood around him, jeering and throwing small stones but doing nothing that could potentially violate Ren's order. The blond scowled at them. Each stone that hit only seemed to make him more resolute in his mission to glare them all into submission.

* * *

An hour later Temari finished her report. They sat at a long table in the provision tent, oil lamps giving off a smell that was not quite rancid but still detectable. Bad oil, then. Not that they had much choice in the desert. The tent was noisy. Debriefings always were. They usually happened right where people ate after running through the desert for days.

Temari waved off the kunoichi who offered her another glass of Rakaji, then spooned up a mouthful of sludge and wrinkled her nose at the taste. That food could taste this bland had never even occurred to her before the war. She liked food, but she liked her image more. Which is why she didn't move a muscle as she ate, thinking all the while that this cook should be hanged, and that if she were to cook, the food would taste a thousand times better.

Next to them Kiro was shoveling the mush into his face with gusto.

"I didn't expect to lose that many on a simple raid," Ren said. He drank from his beaker before leaning closer across the table, hot breath faintly reaching her face. "I guess you're second in command now. That's something, right?"

Right. They would listen to her, to a degree that is. Not much of it came through her own diligence in any case. She was the daughter of the Kazekage, last rightful ruler of Suna—more a symbol of a lost time than a leader.

She would see soon enough how much worth there was in being second in command.

If Kankuro were still in the camp, he would have that dubious honor. As Ren had told her, however, Senyaku had visited them for half a day, boosting morale and inspecting what little remained of his soldiers before taking half with him. He talked a long while with Kankuro, two strangers with him, introducing one as a powerful friend, the other as a proficient teacher. In what the stranger would teach Kankuro, Senyaku hadn't been willing to say right then.

Temari knew that she would like nothing more than bash their heads in for taking Kankuro away. Because an exercise in futility was what the rebellion felt like now. And all it left behind was a tremendous helplessness at having hoping for both her brothers' survival be the only thing she could do.

She rested her chin in her palm, rotating the empty cup in front of her with her finger. At least she was reasonably sure that Kankuro wouldn't die easily. He was a fool at times, but a crafty fool. She just worried what would happen to him if more fanaticism entered his mind. He was quite zealous already.

Looking up at Ren's reddened face, she had an idea. "Can I send Kankuro a letter? You exchange reports with the other commanders, don't you? I could put it with the next load you're sending."

Ren scratched his chin, sighing. "You know that's not what the reports are for, Temari. Important matters only—Senyaku-sama's words themselves. I wouldn't want to go against his orders."

Maybe it was the dim light, or the feeling of having had no relaxing moment in weeks, or just the alcohol that was going to her head, but there was suddenly a boldness rising in her that drove her to lean across the table, closer to Ren. She wouldn't lose contact with Kankuro, not if she could help it. "Are you sure?" she said, voice breathy. "There's really nothing that can be done?"

Ren blinked, and the momentary break that appeared in his expression was almost worth the effort. His smile, which was really the only annoying thing about him, grew into a mischievous grin. A change like day and night. He glanced around, searching for people listening in. Everyone was occupied with themselves though.

"I'll see about it. But make it short. We'll talk about the particulars later."

She nodded, leaning back again. That had worked better than expected. And Ren was really not the worst choice she could have made.

Ren was about to say something, when he noticed that Kiro was still eating. "Oi, Kiro, stop shoveling all our rations down your throat. You've had more than enough for one day." Adding in a whisper, "Or a lifetime."

Kiro didn't deign him with a look, focusing on his food instead. "Leave me be, man. We traveled for days straight, barely sum' food. It's only proper I get to eat me fill now."

Ren looked at the kunoichi a few seats to the left of Temari. "You fed the prisoner?"

"Once," the kunoichi said.

"We had to ration ourselves," Temari said. "Once was all we could afford."

Then, seeing that Kiro was still eating, Ren threw his empty beaker at him. "Are you deaf? I told you stop eating!"

"But—"

"Not buts," Ren said. "Make yourself useful." He peered across the table, gauging how much of the slurry in the pot Kiro had already destroyed. "Get a plate and bring it to that blond monkey. Can't have him die on us."

Kiro glared at Ren. "You want me to give him food? Looked too deep into the bottle lately? Taken some Sija-seeds?"

Both were appropriately drunk for a fight, and while Temari usually had no problems with it, right then she felt tired most of all. And it was boring. Senyaku didn't appoint commanders for being lazy or weak. His great rebellion couldn't afford that. And there was nothing that induced sleep quicker than a predetermined outcome in a brawl.

They stared at each other, both breathing like angry bulls. Temari eyed the oil lamp. The smell was growing worse; or did that come from the two idiots about to fight? Eventually Kiro decided that backing down was the better option, throwing his spoon into the pot. He cursed under his breath, took the pot under one arm, a bottle of water in the other, and left the tent to feed the prisoner.

"I can't believe that guy," Ren said, turning back to her. "Questioning me in front of everyone. Another stunt like this and he won't like what'll happen to him."

Posturing; whether empty or not, she couldn't tell. By now she didn't care though. The tiredness of the past days was seeping through now, and sleep sounded good. Better than staying here and listening anyway.

Letting her hands rest on Ren's shoulder, she leaned in close, whispering, "I'll head in for the night, commander. We've had a long run. But I'll definitely come and talk again about that…letter issue."

"Do that," he said, grinning, any previous anger seemingly forgotten. "But remember, keep it short."

"I will."

She put some effort into her walk out the tent, but once she was outside, the swaying of her hips stopped. Close to her own tent she came by the post to which they had bound the blond earlier. Loose ropes were sloping around the trunk; none of them cut. They had taken him into a tent, then. About to continue, a sudden clinking noise made her stop and listen.

The camp was mostly silent, now and then some laughter coming from the provision tent. At this time a person was either getting some shut-eye to be prepared for another raid, or sitting back with Ren, lifting some Rakaji. For a moment everything was completely still. Then the clinking came again, noisy and infuriating.

 _Ought to leave it alone_ , she thought. _Just leave it and be on your way, Temari. No need to check. It is none of your business anyway. Except maybe it is. Maybe something is happening and if you do not look you will wake up with a slit throat or an escaped prisoner and then what have you won from not looking, a few minutes more sleep? But then again, how likely is that? Not so much, I'd say. It is probably nothing._

Then she heard a snort. Closing her eyes briefly, she huffed and then went after the noise. Rounding the next tent, she found a stack of empty barrels. Behind them Kiro sat cross-legged, pot clenched between his thighs, lips smeared with soup and gravy. He held a long spoon in his hand. It went in and out of the large pot in a steady rhythm, hypnotizing almost. He stuffed himself again and again, snorting in-between.

It was grotesque, and maybe also fascinating. It was a systematic destruction of food, made strange by the displeased look on his face. He did not like the sludge. He ate it for the sake of eating it, that was all. Pure, unfiltered gluttony. Or maybe the stand-off with Ren had cost him a lot of nerves and now he needed to recharge? But she'd still put her money on gluttony. As far as she knew he clashed regularly with Ren. Mostly losing. They always patched it up afterward, and a few days later they'd be at it again. It was a cruel sort of friendship. But they both were strange, just that Ren was good looking and Kiro wasn't.

"Kiro, what the hell are you doing?" she said, rounding the barrels. "Ren will kill you for this."

 _Or make you scrub that pot for a month_. _Actually, that might be exactly what Ren would do._

"He can take a bent for all I care," Kiro mouthed around the spoon. "I traveled a week with you an' fought that scum. If I want to eat, then I eat. That's it. This pink-haired bitch almost got me, you saw it. Knife right between the ribs. Like hell I'll give this blond shit anything."

Temari could understand the sentiment, to a degree. Before her team had attacked the advisor she'd been so sure of their victory—a win without losses. What else could have been the outcome, with an ambush from three sides?

That she understood didn't mean he wasn't a pig though. Or that he could ignore Ren's orders, because for all their fighting, if a commander said, "give the prisoner food," then you abided by that.

"Look," she said, "I know you don't like it. But don't you think you've pissed Ren off enough for one night? You care that much for whatever he's going to cook up? Last time he had you scrubbing for hours."

Kiro's thick neck shook. "That bastard would actually put me through that again?" His eyes were little, evil pinpricks. "Of course he would. But I'm still not giving this food away. Let him try. I'll make him eat his damn duty."

There was a headache beginning to grow behind Temari's eyes. It was weak, for now, but she knew Kiro would only make it worse as the talk went on. That's how it always went with him. It had begun when he had brawled with Kankuro, and Kankuro had won, of course, but the damage had been done and then Ren put Kiro in her team and everything only got more complicated.

But not today. She would be subtle, influencing him through passionate encouragement. Who could resist that?

"Don't be such a stubborn ass," she said, hitting a conciliatory note. "Ren doesn't want you to be friends with that guy. Bring him some food and—"

"I damn well won't go near that little devil. Knife to the rib, I told you. No way I'm goin' in that tent."

"You said that was the pink one," Temari almost shouted in frustration.

"Doesn't change a thing. He's from the same making. You saw him, didn't you? When they bound him to the post."

It dawned on her with a sudden clarity. "You're afraid of him," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're actually scared of him while he's chained and his chakra is bound. I don't believe this."

Kiro jumped up, fast as the sheer size of his body allowed, almost tipping over the pot. "I'm not scared, damnit! You want to fight too? I will. See if I don't!"

Temari narrowed her eyes. Kiro had been a pest to deal with in the desert, but cantankerous and drunk he was impossible. When he opened his mouth again she slipped into his range and pinched a vulnerable nerve through the roll of fat he called a neck. Applying chakra she sent a wave of calming illusions directly into his chakra network, glad to have taken the time to learn some Genjutsu beside her wind techniques. Now if only her Taijutsu weren't so shabby…

Kiro slumped down and Temari dashed forward, catching the pot that was slipping from his fingers. There was barely enough left inside to feed someone. Standing with the pot in her hand, the spoon lying in the sand, and Kiro snoring at her feet, she had the profound insight that this wasn't her brightest moment. She glared at the behemoth below. It was his fault, and she resisted the impulse to dump the whole slurry on his head only barely. She should have let him carry on. She should have gone to sleep. A myriad of possibilities sprung to mind, and all were better than what she did. For a self-proclaimed logical person, she found that she decided oddly enough with her gut most of the time. An aspect to be considered at a later time, however, because now she had to take over Kiro's job—may he die from food-poisoning one day. Suppressing a yawn she shuffled past the snoring figure and toward the tent with the prisoner, feeling the full weight of a strangely misplaced sense of duty.

She pulled the flap aside and found the blond inside, fastened tightly to a wooden pole in the middle. They had bound his hands above his head so that he was left standing, and around his ankles were slings, too. He looked defeated, head bowed and staring straight at his feet. This, she thought, was how it should be. A prisoner shouldn't feel comfortable enough to crack jokes about her butt or throw one-liners that would earn him nothing save another knuckle imprint on his face.

Suddenly she heard him snore, and stopped short, her earlier assessment invalidated.

"Hey," she said.

No answer.

She called out again, placing the pot on the ground. Her effort was rewarded by a low-key mumble about mosquitos. Then came an even louder snore that shattered not just the silence but also her composure, chip by chip.

She nudged his bound feet, hard. "Hey!"

Finally he moved, opening his eyes. And she kept herself from stepping back through sheer discipline. The recognition that flared up in his expression was unsettling. Then it was gone, replaced by a twitching nose on the lookout for food. His eyes found the pot.

"Food," he said. "That's nice of you, Temari. I almost lost hope when you stopped feeding me on the way here."

He smiled at her; a small, sharp one.

Temari had enough faith in her ability, to know that nothing in her face revealed how much the use of her name startled her. She liked her name—actually she had been told that their name was the word people loved to hear the most—but that wisdom imparted by the wise old merchants of Suna's merchant district probably didn't apply to that guy. They, in their blue-colored shawls and turbans, their blue sandals and sometimes (if the fancy struck them) their blue fingernails, couldn't have fathomed that she, one day, might hear her name from a stranger who was also an enemy.

"Great to find you in a good mood," she said, smile matching his. "Can't say I've seen many prisoners like you." She closed in, until they were eye to eye, just that she had a sharp weapon at his jugular. "How do you know my name?"

She watched his Adam's apple bob up and down, as he gave her a look that did not quite scream despair yet, even though it should. He was dirty all over his face, but even in the dim light of a lamp standing on a crate next to them, she was amazed by the color of his eyes.

"I'll tell you after I've got something in my stomach," he said. "It's been dreadfully empty for some time now."

"Feel free to stuff yourself," she said, lips pursed.

"Hilarious."

It was the second punch of clarity reaching her this night. She looked first at him, sitting as bound as any respectable prisoner should be, and then at the pot standing around unmoving, as only an inanimate object could. Suddenly Kiro didn't seem all that dumb anymore. Still a gluttonous pig, but not entirely stupid after all. He had divined the sheer inconvenience of this job far earlier. How utterly embarrassing.

The kunai vanished back in the folds of her dress. She stooped to pick up the pot. No one who ever wrote tales about her should be able to say that she was a quitter. Scrounging together the remains with the long spoon, she was fully aware that the blond was sporting a sly grin now.

"Wipe that grin off your face," she said. "I could let you starve, you know? Let's see where that takes us."

Somehow, the blank expression that followed seemed to mock her even more.

"No need to get upset, Temari" he said. "I'm Naruto by the way."

Again her name, and it had been spoken with an assuredness that told a story of its own, as if he had heard it more than just once in passing—which was, really, the only way she could explain him knowing of it. She had been in Konoha once, after all. Then she registered that he had given his own name as well. If that was actually his name. But even if it wasn't, normally it took prisoners days or weeks before they said anything.

She shoved the spoon into his mouth with more force than strictly necessary, ignoring his choking and coughing. She repeated the maneuver, then held the muzzle of her water flask to his lips. He drank greedily, water running down his chin. And when the flask was empty he looked wild for a moment, as if this hadn't been nearly enough—which it probably wasn't.

She leaned against a stack of crates. From there she had a good view on his face. "Now, how do you know me, _Naruto_?"

He seemed to debate with himself. Then his lips twitched. "Gaara."

Five letters that took the air right out of her. She quickly collected herself, but she knew that the lapse of composure must have been visible.

"Gaara?" she asked, just to make sure.

He nodded. "Ga-a-a-a-a-ra." He was smiling "Roughly the same height as me, red hair…I shouldn't have to tell you these things. You're his sister."

"I know how he looks," she snapped back. "How do you know him?"

Naruto shook his head. "Enough information for one night. My name and his name, that's pretty good."

Within a blink, she was in front of him, kunai poised to stab at his face. "Tell me, or I'm gutting you right here, right now."

"Do that and you'll learn nothing."

She held the kunai steady. No muscle moved in her face as she glared at him. He was right. But the challenge in his eyes was really too much, and this day was too much, and in the end it was just one man after another dictating the terms. She put the kunai away, slowly, seeing his expression change from anticipation to amusement, feeling an intensity from it that made her boil and then she let fly, driving her fist into his stomach. He buckled as much as his bindings allowed, a trail of spittle running down his lips.

"Careful," he gasped out. "Wouldn't want all the precious food go to waste." Muttering under his breath, "That's one mean punch."

When she faked going in for a second, he rapidly shook his head.

"Listen," he said, "I'll tell you…in pieces. Bits and pieces. See it from my perspective, 'kay? I'm your prisoner. For all I know that was the last meal you'll ever give me if I spill the beans. That's not going to happen."

"Blackmailing your prison guard? That's the most retarded—"

"I do it because I can," he said. The punch hadn't had a lasting effect, it seemed, and the sharp smile was back. "You obviously want to know about Gaara. Your reaction told me as much. That's fine. Great even. You'll bring me food, keep me alive, and I'll give you what you want. It's a good bargain."

"Ren is good at making people talk. You'll sing once he's had his time with you."

"I'm quite hardy," he said. "Besides, he'll torture me either way. I'm prepared for that. Our deal is separate from that. Just keep me fed and watered, that's all. Tell this Ren guy and you'll get nothing."

Temari regarded him with an even expression. The prick was far too confident. He also knew Gaara. Ostensibly, at least. And Odaya be damned, an hour ago she had basically offered her body for a letter—not that there weren't benefits attached.

"How do I know you're not lying through your teeth?"

"You don't. But what do you have to lose? For now that Ren guy wants me fed anyway, or he wouldn't have send you over in the first place. Aside from that, I could tell you the most fantastic bullshit stories about Gaara and you'd listen, because, hey, they're about your little brother, and you love him, right?"

There was an edge to the last sentence, a moment of genuine anger. But the comment hit far too close to home. Before she knew it, she had punched him again, hoping that this one really would leave a permanent imprint on his face. She left the tent quickly, knowing that he'd only make it worse.

Outside she felt the chill wind of night, and she was glad for it, because for a moment it seemed to cool her down, to tame the violent eruption of emotion Naruto's last comment had unleashed. He was a stranger. How could someone like that know what it had been like growing up with Gaara? How could he even assume that he had any inkling, the merest idea even, of what she had felt like?

She remembered too well the shame at trying and failing to be the big sister she should have been, at the spike of fear her little brother's voice had driven through her each time he spoke, at knowing that if she had just been a bit braver when they were younger, a bit more resolute against the wishes of her father, that maybe all of this could have been avoided. And that was the problem, she noticed, wiping at her eyes. Without knowing anything that idiot had hit the one real weakness she had. And it made her furious, just as much as it made her feel helpless.

* * *

It was the middle of afternoon. The sun hung just above the tip of the Sweeping Mountains. Sakura was sitting on a rock, alternating between rifling through her backpack to check for her weapons, and glancing at Sasuke, who filled their bottles at a well not ten yards away. They were at the last station before Sukoru. It was a small assortment of gray adobe huts with straw-covered roofs. A few traders shared the place with them, their horses and camels bound to the sparse vegetation.

For some time now Sasuke and Sakura had followed the original route alongside the mountains, toward the capital. They passed up no village that lay on their way, always speaking with the people living there in the hope of finding a clue, a rumor, something that might lead them to Naruto, to the loudmouthed blond who always played the hero when he shouldn't. The vital information stayed out of reach though. It wasn't even in grasping distance. And Sakura left each settlement with the insight renewed that the people in this country were rather nice and open, and that they were also utterly useless since they seemed to know nothing. Some hadn't even heard that Suna and Konoha fought each other until she mentioned it.

She directed her stare over the vast expanse of sand visible through the gaps between the huts, her fingertips absentmindedly brushing over the fine leather in which Joha's notes were bound. How often had she thought of saying "screw this"? Thought of running into the desert to start searching at last?

Without fail, Sasuke kept her from making good on those thoughts. His reason-based approach seemed so cruel at times, as did the disinterest in his face, the pure indifference he showed most of the day. But she had long realized that it was a façade he showed more to his own benefit than the world's. It kept him from erupting in madness. Like a chest that looked completely bland from the outside, but contained a great force within. As long as you didn't open it, no one would notice, and no one would be in danger, not even the owner of the chest who wore the key around his neck.

At night, when he thought her asleep already, she had often seen how he stood staring at the desert for hours, muscles tense as though he forcefully kept himself from moving. In the end they moved steadily toward Sukoru, clinging to the flimsy bit of hope they had left.

Sakura closed the pack, snapping shut the latch. She believed in Naruto. And this simple truth was the thread that kept her sanity from unraveling. There was only one shinobi like him, one knucklehead-turned-warrior. He would survive whatever the rebels threw at him. Because if there was one thing she had learned about Uzumaki Naruto, then it was that he never surrendered, never gave up. Orochimaru hadn't managed to kill him, some dirt bag Suna-nin wouldn't either.

"Here," Sasuke said, handing her a filled bottle. She drank, then secured the bottle at the side of her pack.

They began moving again, keeping behind a trader caravan taking the same route. The bags slung across two horses and also stacked on the cart they pulled smelled of medicine, even when walking at a distance.

"How do we get in?" Sasuke said.

"I've heard that question three times in my life so far, and every time the answer ended in a complete disaster. We're here on official Konoha business. No secrecy required. We march up to the guards, tell them who we are, and they will let us through."

Sasuke shrugged, and they continued in silence, listening to the excited discussion of two boys their age who were walking next to the old man to which the caravan belonged. They talked about the women in Sukoru, to which the old man grinned knowingly, then they spoke of the Sweeping Mountains and how their tops looked like flaming turds during sunrise, for which they were properly chastised.

Eventually the walls of Sukoru came into view, and Sakura had, for a second, the sense of being incredibly small, recognizing the feeling as one she had experienced before, when Iruka-sensei had told them, laughing, that one of Konoha's crazier astronomers entertained the theory of each star being a sun in itself, orbiting their own earth. Preposterous, of course, but she had played with the thought for days back then, eventually roping Ino into playing out a political meeting between two queens from different earths.

Sukoru's walls were pure white, and the closer she came, the more they glared at her, reflecting the light. In Suna she had read a lot about the capital. But even the pictures in the books failed to prepare her for the actual thing. From a perspective of width, Sukoru wasn't even half as big as Tanyū. But where the city lost in a battle of width, it easily dominated in height.

It stretched over an array of hills, and the buildings on the largest hills were several storeys tall, endeavoring to tickle the clouds. To the north, where the capital was girthed by the mountains, architectural wonders had been carved into the mountain side. At seemingly random places inside the city, large plateaus reached up. Each was different in size and height; and all of them were manmade. Connecting them were bridges, long and short, narrow and wide, leading to the top and the bottom, a knot with an incredible number of strings.

It was a city of layers, the abominable dream of a mad architect, who, in his craziness, had managed to create something that was beautiful and scary at once.

"We're going to have a grand time navigating this," she muttered to Sasuke.

He nodded.

The lurid walls only stopped their harsh staring when she was almost close enough to touch them. Sasuke and her stood in front of a large gate, waiting for the guards to process them. The caravan came first though, and when the guard asked what they were carrying, the old man procured an official looking piece of paper, proclaiming proudly to carry the finest camphor. From where? Tea Country, of course. Have you ever heard of good camphor coming from someplace else? Specifics? They don't call it the Chalk of Degarashi for nothing. Freshly extracted from the best laurel trees in the world. The two boys nodded along, and Sakura looked at the left side of the gate, through which a trickle of people were leaving. They dispersed on the many roads that led away from Sukoru, some into the desert, some toward the mountains. The largest and best-maintained route leading right to Ike, where the temple of Odaya could be found.

Shortly after, the officer allowed the old man and his boys through, the cart and the aromatic smell vanishing in the city while, curiously enough, a group of fifteen soldiers escorted them in. Sasuke and Sakura moved up the row. The guards tensed as they noticed their headbands.

"What is your purpose here?" asked one guard, an older man. He was narrowing his eyes under his helmet. There was a wart the size of a small potato on his cheek, and she did her best not to look.

As always, Sasuke needn't say anything to show contempt, and Sakura stepped forward quickly before he deigned to underline his facial expression with commentary. That was always tremendously helpful in diplomatic conversation. "We were supposed to arrive with Shien-dono," she said. "An advisor to the Daimyo."

The guard glanced over her shoulder at the people behind them. "And he's not with you. Neither is anyone else from his entourage."

"There were… complications."

The guard's face turned grave. "Ambush?" he asked, spitting into the sand, then continued, needing no further answer. He whispered something to another, younger guard, who promptly vanished in a run toward regions unknown. "Wait until he's back," the guard then said, guiding them toward a small shadowed bench, while he continued to process the other arrivals.

"If they let us in, this was easier than I thought," Sasuke said.

"Why wouldn't they let us in?"

Sasuke gave her one of those looks that told her whatever she had uttered hadn't been the most intelligent.

 _Here's to hoping Shien wasn't a friend of the Daimyo._

Half an hour later the guard called for them. "You can go. There's someone higher up the chain waiting for you. Follow him"—he patted the younger guard on the shoulder—"and he'll guide you through the city."

Not wasting any more time, the young guard showed them the way to a corner behind the gate and asked them to step onto a quadratic platform as wide and long as a room. Then he uttered a sharp whistle and tolled the bell attached to the platform three times.

Sakura suppressed a jerking motion as the platform suddenly started moving up, pulled by some kind of mechanism and heavy chains. They called it an elevator, the guard told them, one of many strewn around the city. Only reserved for officials though, and mostly leading to the upper levels, leaving out the middle layers completely.

They rose past the first layer, then the second, the third…Sakura stopped counting at that point, eyes flickering about to take in everything around her. Then they stopped. Not at the highest level, but still rather far up.

She stepped from the elevator onto a plateau, and was suddenly confronted by an impossibility. The rich fragrance of hyacinths and hibiscus filled her mind with a heady sensation; the noise of purling water, laughter…She had stepped from a blocky stone platform into a green paradise, a garden equaling those of Konoha. And she didn't understand, and could only nod dumbly as the guard excused himself and left via the elevator.

"How?" she asked in a whisper.

Sasuke, who was leaning against the guardrail that ringed the plateau—he looked far too collected, Sakura found—nodded toward something at the edge of her vision. She turned and found, originating from the sweeping mountains, aqueducts connecting to some of the plateaus, interwoven with the bridges, snakelike almost.

Now a bit calmer she looked about the plateau. It was a beautiful garden, with a few small houses scattered throughout. Moving toward them with measured but firm steps, coming from the circular fountain in the very middle, was a man in a shining green and white robe.

That man looked official enough.

"You are the two shinobi from Konoha?" the man asked, and after receiving two nods, continued to tell them his name and that he was another of the Daimyo's advisors. "He is waiting for you," the man told them. "Please, follow me. The Daimyo has a lot of questions for you."

 _I would too_ , Sakura thought. _Especially after we've come a week too late, one man short, and without the main performer of this little circus._

The advisor led them over a bridge that brought them to another, larger plateau. Sakura had never had any problems with heights, but still resolved not to look down. The intricate web of buildings and ways to reach them was overwhelming in its complexity.

From that plateau their guide took them to another elevator, up to the second-highest level, over a second and a third bridge, each larger than the one before, until, finally, they arrived at the most northern side of Sukoru. There, the Daimyo's palace, or at least part of it, was carved into the very mountain; the rest of it protruding in a fashion that left Sakura breathless.

Through the gilded double doors they went, and onward, traipsing on a roll of red carpet that led into the main reception hall—a carpet that probably cost more than supplying all of Konoha with weapons for a month.

There were guards all around them now, more heavily armored than those at the gate, and in the shadows she could feel the eyes of shinobi on them. But that was to be expected. Much like the Fire Daimyo, the Wind Daimyo had his own group of guardian shinobi, acting independent of Suna.

Then she saw him on the large dais at the end of the hall. He was sitting cross-legged on a pillow, an assortment of expensive treats laid out in front of him on a platter, and beside him, on three smaller mattresses, sat two men and a woman.

His children, Sakura thought, remembering the faces from the book Danzō had given them before they left.

The Daimyo himself was an old man with a hoary face and sparse gray hair, but eyes that penetrated deeply. He watched them approach—until a guard told them to stop—and even then he didn't speak, only observed.

In a weird way, Sakura was grateful to Danzō. The old cripple had prepared them for staring contests like this after all. In any case, manners were never wrong. She nudged Sasuke, and together they sketched a somewhat formal bow, more of an inclination of their heads really.

Because what Kakashi-sensei had taught them in Tanyū all these years ago still held true. Only for their Hokage did shinobi of Konoha bend their knees.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks to the DLP crew.


	6. Crossed III

**Disclaimer:** Masashi Kishimoto

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Crossed – III**

* * *

 _Take a map, any map, and you will see that every neighbor has been an enemy as often as an ally._

 _Borders always seem to invite conflict through their very existence._

* * *

Kakashi flexed his muscles and rolled his neck. Then, finding his body in working order, he stepped onto a mat. Many of those lay scattered throughout the hall. He nodded at Yamanaka Ino, who sketched a bow while glaring at him. He smiled. The glare brought back good memories.

They were in a large building adjacent to the hospital, where freshly healed shinobi adhering to hospital rules sparred until the paperwork for their release had been processed or their primary healer allowed them to leave. A matter of minutes, usually. But wounded frontliners made for bureaucratic chaos, and so it was only natural that minutes became days, maybe even a week or two.

The air around them was chock-full with groaning and pained moans, the sound of bodies hitting mats, with the slap of flesh hitting flesh, and cursing as well as admonitions of said cursing. The latter came from the old people, the veterans of past wars, of which there were dozens in the hall. Their saggy bodies lacked strength, but their instincts were sharp as ever. Kakashi talked with them now and then, and their predictions of future troop movements in the war always struck him as somewhat prophetic. Why they trained in the hall and not somewhere else he could only guess at. But there were nurses stationed to oversee the whole area, so he assumed his guess to be educated and accurate. Old was old, still. Even if the mind cut like a knife. And men like the Hokage were rare occurrences. That he could still fight as he did just underlined what a monster he had been in his prime.

"Come," Kakashi said, beckoning Ino with his hand to begin. She grimaced. The expression vanished quickly though, replaced by a complete blankness, which was commendable. She was learning fast. Then she hurtled at him, a flurry of rushing limbs and blond hair.

He weaved between her strikes, retaliating with a tap whenever he saw an opening, forcing her to adapt her stance and attack patterns. The taps had the force of a cotton club, but they were in a hospital so he felt only minimal shame at the softness of his method. Her fist rushed past his face and, grinning, he shifted to deflect her next attack, pulling the legs out from under her.

As she fell backward, her composure breaking, he thought that she must be confused still as to why he had been singling her out every day for up to a week now.

She climbed back to her feet. The next round began, ending with the same result. By the sixth round she was favoring her left leg, wincing every time her right foot touched the mat.

"You're enjoying this," she said, chest rising and falling rapidly, strands of blond hair sticking to her face.

Kakashi shrugged. "All we do is keep ourselves in shape, nothing more."

On the mat next to them, a rusty laugh made Kakashi glance at the old woman who had just laid out a Chūnin, freshly recovered and entirely too cocky. Her bun had come undone, hair falling over her shoulder like a threadbare, white carpet. Then one of the nurses came running, kneeling beside the groaning man, pulling a bloody needle from his abdomen. The old woman demanded her needle to be given back, and after cleaning it she bunched her hair up and soon the bun was restored. She saw Kakashi watch, and winked at him before sashaying away.

 _Tough old bird._

Sensing an attack, he turned in time to avoid a delicate fist. The seventh round was on, then, and it started with a barrage of punches that he easily avoided. Going hand in hand with her annoyance, the sloppiness of Ino's stance increased. When it reached a level he couldn't tolerate anymore, Kakashi stepped into her non-existent guard and chopped at the upper thigh of her right leg.

Ino folded like a toppled stack of ramen cups. She sunk to the ground, groaning and holding her leg .

Kakashi crouched in front of her. "Too much emotion makes you sloppy. This," he said, nodding at her leg, "is your weakness. Protect it. Never let the enemy see whether it hurts. They will pounce the moment they notice."

There was a flash of irritation and defiance, then her features smoothed out. "I know," she said, getting to her feet. "I just haven't found a way to protect it yet."

One side of him, very much the evil one, wanted to say, "Footwork!"

Instead he said, "If the war goes on—and it will—you'll be seeing frontlines before long. Which is precisely why you need to find something, fast. Women don't have it easy if they lose."

Her lips twisted into a cynical smile. "Wouldn't want to get raped, right?"

"Right."

Kakashi appreciated that he didn't have to disillusion her about much. He only knew the gist of what she went through in her short career, but her path had made her quite aware of how disturbing the world could be. It was sad as well as good. Ugliness was easier to prepare for if you knew it existed, after all. Still ugly though, but that was life.

They continued for five more rounds, and with his mindful and morality-boosting encouragement she might have lasted even more than that had it not been for Shizune calling out his name.

The call of freedom, he thought. Released, at last.

Ino sat on the mat, massaging her battered thigh. "That's hopefully the last I see of you."

"Who knows?" He tilted his head. "Take care, Ino-san."

He meant to walk away but, before leaving the mat, turned again. "You might want to look into earth techniques. They're awfully handy when it comes to protecting vulnerabilities. I remember Iruka knowing some easy ones."

Then he went to the exit. Shizune was wearing a white lab coat, a curious assemble of black kimono and mesh underneath. Near her armpits he saw a little indention for hidden weapons but kept from staring too much in that general direction. Bad things happened if you did. That's what they always said.

"That was nice of you," Shizune said, steering him to the hospital entrance.

He assured her that he had no idea what she meant.

"Yamanaka-san. Is there a reason for teaching her?"

"Sadism?" he said, shrugging, thinking that it had been a reflexive decision back when he saw Ino the first time in the hall. All he knew at that point was that she was friends with Sakura, and that helping her survive would be a nice thing to do. The rejuvenating glares from an angry student were just a side benefit. "I take it everything's in order now?" he asked as they passed two massive potted plants that framed the hospital entrance.

Shizune glanced at her clipboard. "As far as I can see, yes. You're good to go." Lowering her voice, "Keep a low profile, please. Tsunade-sama asked me to classify your release records."

"Did she now?"

Outside he felt the sun pleasantly warm his nose and ears. The large maple tree rustled in the wind; on a bench in the shadow of the boughs, a young civilian woman sat next to a man going strong on hundred, laughing, feeding him from a small basket. "You shouldn't overwork yourself, grandpa," she said. The old man offered her a toothless grin. "Nonsense, dear," it seemed to say. "I am a shinobi of Konoha. Age won't change that."

Then Kakashi and Shizune had passed them, closing in on the metal gate, gravel crunching under their feet.

"I don't know why Tsunade-sama wants to keep you here," Shizune said, "but sealing the records can only mean that she doesn't want the logistic department to know you're completely healthy again."

Oh, so she hadn't been told? Now wasn't that interesting. Admitting weakness in front of a student sit as well with Tsunade, then, as with any other teacher.

"Well," he said, "I have an idea. Thanks for the heads-up anyway."

Her frown deepened. It looked cute. There was nothing quite as healthy for his mind and mood than leaving other people guessing.

He took his leave a minute later, Genjutsu covering him so that no one took a heightened interest in his presence while he made for his apartment. The invasion hadn't wrecked it, which seemed like a miracle almost.

On the streets, there was a gloominess that clung to each person; it was a heavy contrast with the young woman and the old man and the sun shining on his face. The permanent scowls and bitter grimaces found mostly on shinobi scared the civilians. They shied away when they saw one walk the street, tending to keep to one another instead of laughing and waving as usual.

But he couldn't really blame his fellow shinobi. If they were above the rank of Genin and stayed in Konoha that meant they had been seriously wounded in some way, which often went hand in hand with having lost a teammate or two, or three…

Passing the central marketplace, he noticed a large wooden board. On a ladder to the right, a shinobi was just nailing a new piece of paper onto it.

Kakashi threw a glance at it: propaganda for the most part, glorifying each small achievement as if it had won the war itself, and vilifying the enemy, stoking the anger in those yet to visit the battlefield. He was dismayed to notice that nothing was being written about Wind Country, and every bit of news concerned itself with the northern frontlines, where the Third and the remnants of Waterfall held Oto, Iwa, and Kusa in check. Shaking his head, Kakashi resumed his walk.

The first thing he noticed upon reaching his apartment was that the seals had been taken down, or rather that someone had crudely forced their way through them. An undertaking that must have cost a lot of time, days possibly.

Kakashi tipped the door open and entered cautiously, preparing himself for the possibility of an unwanted welcome. The hallway was ruined; the parquet either smashed or burned a lovely charcoal black. He recognized the handiwork of his own traps, but unfortunately found no bodies.

In the living room, kunai lay scattered about or stuck in the carpet. His sofa had been shredded to pieces by a hail of shuriken; the stuffing was spilling out of the cushions. Particularly the small round cushion, which he had often thrown up and down while thinking, looked like a smashed head with brain matter leaking out. The tapestry behind the sofa was a crisp black—one of his own traps, again. He inspected the floor beneath it and found a large water stain.

From the living room he went into the kitchen, sighing as he came by the pile of shards that had once been a vase from Tea Country. The cast-iron plant, usually rather durable, sat haphazardly placed against the corner, dead. Kakashi could only speculate at this point, but there was an educated guess to be made as to the culprit, and that guess was a pushy one, flashing through his mind anew with every new bit of broken furniture he took in.

The kitchen table was missing one leg.

 _Marvelous bit of engineering there_ , he thought, taking in the tower of books that had replaced the leg and kept the table upright. Then he saw that the books were his Icha-Icha collection. His chakra coiled like a snake; his muscles tensed.

 _I will definitely kill them…_

On the table he found a letter, ink stains, blood and fingerprints all over it.

 _Sorry about the apartment! You're really paranoid though, sensei. Like really paranoid… Anyways, don't worry about where to sleep. We're probably not in Konoha right now, but we've got ourselves a nice_ _shinobi cave_ _at this address. There's a room for you, so feel free to use it! Oh, and could you take care of the pond? Sasuke experimented with his lightning affinity and killed Puki and Olong, the two koi we had. I'm pretty sure they're still floating around somewhere._

 _See you soon,_

 _Naruto_

Kakashi folded the letter after memorizing the address and assuring himself that the slight catch of his breath had been a random occurrence of chance, no deeper meaning underlying it all. Putting the folded letter in his pocket, he thought his guess had been spot on. Only his minions could have wrought such extensive damage on his home.

In the hour that followed, Kakashi found himself a padded box and carefully deconstructed the Icha-Icha tower. He then went from room to room, boxing everything else of importance, humming a tune he had learnt in the third war, when a dying Iwa-nin had sung it to his equally dying comrade. It had been a moving scene.

* * *

The mattress Sasuke sat on was of good quality and, in all, precisely what he expected from a guestroom at the Daimyo's palace. The room was furnished sparsely otherwise, though the items available were expensive. On the wall hung an adorned mirror; next to it sat a plant that smelled of shaving cream.

After hearing a rough outline of their trip, the Daimyo had bid them to stay. Without leaving their chamber, that was. A night later a palace boy informed them that they were to dine with the Daimyo that evening. A small, private dinner, during which he would ask for clarifications.

Sasuke rubbed his wrist, looking about the room and waiting for Sakura to finish changing so they could finally leave. His eyes lingered as they trailed over her curves. Sakura had begun to fill out, and while he was only interested in her kinship, he had learned to appreciate an interesting sight when he saw one.

Then his eyes moved on, however, and as they did, his thoughts followed suit. In half an hour they would dine with a rather powerful person—dangerous, but doable—and he couldn't help but ask himself how Naruto was doing. It was vexing that having faith in the blond's apparently inborn ability to cling to life was all he could do.

"He'll be fine, Sasuke. They're probably regretting kidnapping him already."

He looked up. White blossoms seamed the edges of Sakura's red kimono. It was a gift from their host, or rather from the princess.

"I know," he said, smoothing the blue fabric of his own kimono as he got up. He last wore clothes like this a decade ago. Moving around in them felt like wasted movement with each step.

"You look good," he said, while forming hand signs. _How do we tell the story?_

Sakura smiled at him. "You clean up quite nicely yourself." _Pretty it up._

"The messenger should be here soon. No time to unwrap you." _Lying to the Daimyo?_

 _Embellishing._ "Once we're back in Suna you can unwrap...what's her name again, Leeya?"

Sasuke admitted to himself that unwrapping Leeya had crossed his mind once or twice while patrolling the area around the brothel. She didn't look half bad. None of them did. And on the whole he'd actually say that the women of Wind Country were more beautiful than their Konoha counterparts. There was something exotic about them that appealed to him. But that was neither here nor there.

He settled on saying, "I was only following orders." Much safer to live that way.

"Right, Uchiha Sasuke, the embodiment of regulation and obedience."

He grunted.

Then, when the messenger came only minutes later, they were led through the maze of hallways constituting large parts of the palace. That man, the Daimyo, had appeared quite severe during their first meeting. He spoke rarely, observing with full attention. And when he eventually talked, it was with a heaviness to his words that carried the weight of his nation in each syllable. In that he resembled his contemporary in Tanyū, Sasuke thought. The striking difference, then, was that the Daimyo of Fire Country had never asked Team Seven to dine with him, privately at that. Danzō's prior information told of an open-minded ruling family. So far they were sending mixed signals though.

The messenger showed them through the gardens. The intense smell of flowers reminded Sasuke of a D-rank Team Seven had completed in Yamanaka's miserable flower shed, hauling bags of earth, stacking them behind the hothouses.

When they reached an area sectioned off from the rest of the gardens, the palace boy left them. Sasuke slowed down, surveying his surroundings as he followed Sakura to the flat, gilded table where the Daimyo sat with his children and an unknown man. The area was curtailed by large paper walls. Behind them, lights threw small shadows which, in their entirety, shaped into a lotus on each wall, the sigil of Sukoru.

Six sources of chakra hovered on the roofs, nearby but out of hearing range. It made Sasuke tense. Shinobi to watch them were expected, but their current distance would prevent them from intervening. The Daimyo either made a statement that he didn't fear them, or he behaved just plain reckless. Both options weren't a good sign.

"There you are," the Daimyo said, gesturing at the two free cushions. His voice was conspicuously absent of gravitas. "Come, sit down."

Sasuke and Sakura seated themselves. Closer now, Sasuke saw that the Daimyo's face was flushed. Letting his gaze wander over the table, he saw dozens of plates and cups: Majia nectar, sugared figs and strawberries, roasted walnuts and almonds, meat with a dark crust of freshly baked bread, and, from teapot-like lamps embellished with lotus motifs, the heady and aromatic smell of expensive oil. He was satisfied in so far as that he anticipated eating now, but also that he could use everything on the table to kill someone should it become necessary.

"It is an honor to dine with you and your family, Daimyo-sama," Sakura said, inclining her head.

"As it is mine, to welcome the brave souls of Konoha," the Daimyo said.

Sasuke wondered whether that had been sarcasm. The man looked serious enough, even though obviously drunk.

"Before we begin, however, let us get the formalities out of the way, shall we? It will make this much more enjoyable. These are my two sons Iho and Sawada, and there, at the edge of the table, you will find the pearl of Sukoru's court, my daughter Yui."

Sasuke looked at all three in turn. The sons were of the same height and had inherited their father's square chin. The older one, Sawada, had brown hair, a set of penetrating green eyes, and a scar that ran between his eyebrows, splitting his face vertically. It was an old scar, years probably. In comparison, his younger brother Iho sat leaning on his arms, glancing at Sasuke before locking in on Sakura. He wore an easy smile, as if the world knew he was a prince and would keep anguish away from him because of it. Sasuke didn't begrudge the prince looking at Sakura, mostly because his own eyes were locked in on Yui, who sat closest to him. She sported flawless, tanned skin, cascading black hair, and light blue eyes flashing with a curiosity similar to her brother's.

"Uchiha Sasuke," Sasuke said. "This is my teammate, Haruno Sakura. As she said, we're grateful for this invitation."

The Daimyo clapped the man beside him on the shoulder. "Lastly, this is Taichi, my personal guard."

Taichi was an old man with graying temples. He tilted his head in greeting, and Sasuke and Sakura responded in kind. Finding nothing dangerous about him, Sasuke was about to turn his attention back to the Daimyo, when a sudden spike of chakra crashed against his senses. It vanished immediately. Sasuke's eyes snapped to Taichi, who smiled at him, lifting his cup by a fraction. It didn't take much more to make Sasuke understand why no other shinobi was required near the Daimyo. Taichi's short burst of chakra had spoken of a power equal to that of a Jōnin, accompanied by the control necessary to utilize it.

He wasn't on Kakashi's level—few were—but he was definitely more than they could handle without Naruto. That changed the calculations. Not having sensed any chakra from Taichi before, Sasuke had banked on throwing the hot almonds in his face and kicking the oil lamps at the princes while he used one of the golden knives to slit their throats. Only if things went badly, of course. But now, even if the talks died a horrendous death, none of those actions would be effective.

The meal started once the Daimyo clapped his hands. On Sakura's advice, Sasuke kept away from some of the dishes that looked quite appetizing—that red soup especially—but which she told him were spicy enough to make him fart fire. The last bit, of course, messaged via a subtle pinching of his leg.

If the crooked grin on Taichi's face was anything to go by, their exchange hadn't been unnoticed though—another difficulty. As long as that man sat with them at the table, they had no chance of keeping their conversation hidden in any way. The talk around the table was light—Yui being an excellent host, and Iho questioning them about living in a country where every stretch of land was green.

Then the Daimyo took a deep gulp from his cup, before putting it aside and also pushing his plate away. The now freed space was occupied by his elbows as he leaned forward, observing them. Sasuke found nothing unkind in his eyes, mostly interest, which was a far cry from what he had shown them in the throne room.

Sasuke stopped eating, as did Sakura.

"I am sure you are wondering why I have invited you this evening. After all, acquiring the knowledge I seek does not necessitate an informal event such as this."

Sasuke nodded. The question had hovered in his mind since the messenger had given them the invitation. He had, at first, believed it to be a by-product of his name, but soon discarded that possibility. The Uchiha's reputation was one forged on shinobi battlefields—far-reaching, but for the most part not interesting to a ruler such as the Daimyo.

Sasuke noticed that Sawada, the first son, had narrowed his eyes and was paying attention to every word.

"The answer is nothing quite as fancy as you might believe," the Daimyo said. "In his last message sent, Shien—may Odaya bring his soul tranquility—mentioned a delay due to finding a better protection detail." He smiled. "Jiraiya of the Sannin and Hatake Kakashi, those are two rather distinguished teachers. I dare say it would be hard to find someone who does not know their names."

"We are thankful for the guidance they gave us," Sakura said, slowly.

"But their reputation is not what I invited you for." Sasuke blinked. It wasn't? "Rather, it is the fact that I know both, Jiraiya-dono and Hatake-san, personally. I have dined with them—much like I currently dine with you—and they, too, have tasted the pleasures of the royal palace. It was, as you now see, curiosity more than anything else that led me to invite you. What would a team look like, trained by those two, I asked myself. Thus, you are here."

The Daimyo took another sip. "Now that I can see you, however, my inquiry still remains unanswered. Because the usual shinobi team is a unit of three, not two, and your teammate, you told me in vague terms, sacrificed himself to enable your escape. Which extent, then, need an ambush have to threaten a team of three, trained by those men I very much respect?"

Details, then, Sasuke thought. The Daimyo's long-winding elaboration of his motives could be broken down to one core request—if one could call it that and not an order. He wanted exact information. And there was, beside his joviality, also a subtle undercurrent of threat to his voice.

Contrary to expectation, Sasuke actually felt himself ease into the situation now. The Daimyo being completely unbothered by the death of his advisor had been a state of affairs playing tricks on Sasuke's mind. Clear circumstances were always preferable.

"As we already told you, Daimyo-sama, a day's travel away from Kuhako we were ambushed by rebel forces," Sasuke said. "Their numerical advantage was the reason for our defeat. They attacked us in three groups, and the one I dealt with alone consisted of eight shinobi. Sakura told me of similar proportions on her side."

"It is assumable then, that the third group was just as large?" the Daimyo said.

Sasuke nodded. "Had we been attacked by ten shinobi, we wouldn't have had nearly as many problems. Double or triple that number, however, and even with our training we barely managed to hold on."

"Did you kill many of the rebels?" Sawada asked, interlocking his fingers and leaning forward.

"A few," Sakura answered. "I cannot give you exact numbers though. It was all rather chaotic. It's why Naruto made the decision to sacrifice himself. That way at least we could give you an honest report."

"Uzumaki Naruto…" the Daimyo spoke the name slowly. "Tell me of him. If he volunteered, he must be quite exceptional."

That was one way to call him, Sasuke thought, saying, "He noticed our imminent defeat and devised a plan for us to survive. Failure is not an option with him, Daimyo-sama."

"You speak in the present," came from Iho.

"Excuse me?"

"You speak of your teammate as if he were still alive. Excuse my insensibility, but is it not probable that they have killed him by now?"

"It's a possibility," said Sakura, "but we have reason to believe that the rebels won't kill him. We saw them carry him away alive, and he also carries a bloodline. A rather important thing to many shinobi."

Sasuke said, "On the way to Sukoru we have tried to gather information about where he could've been taken, but the civilians in the villages knew nothing."

The Daimyo nodded thoughtfully. "I pray that he is still alive, then, and that his return is imminent. The journal of the scribe, Joha was his name, I believe, is valuable. The abbreviated language he utilizes is a well-known code among students of the Jikaa."

From there, the talks moved into more light-hearted territory, as Yui gently reminded her father that this was still supposed to be a dinner, and that political agendas as well as questioning could follow afterwards. The Daimyo acquiesced to her request and soon involved Taichi in an animated discussion about tobacco.

Sasuke felt a pang in his chest. Naruto probably would have exchanged favorite flavors with the Daimyo by now.

Beside him, Sakura was quickly detained by Iho, who appeared quite interested in the customs of Fire Country and how much they differed from his own. Listening with half an ear how she described the Festival of Trees held each spring, Sasuke dipped a piece of bread in a sauce that looked comparatively mild. He would have continued like this, perfectly content with being silent and returning Sawada's stare, if not for Yui.

The princess leaned closer, capturing his attention with a glance alone. "You are a silent man, Uchiha-san."

Sasuke eyed the delicate curve of her neck. "I apologize," he said, formally, digging up far away lectures on etiquette from his parents. "I do not mean to offend with my silence. It comes…naturally."

He felt the foreign sense of apologizing, and found that it did not appeal to him. The decision to keep silent was rooted in logic. Because, despite what others might think, he was not oblivious to his faults. (Though his faults certainly were lesser than other peoples'.) He knew he had a propensity to be rude when talking, which made it essential to restrict himself to business talk in the presence of royalty.

Yui glanced furtively at her brothers and father, then graced him with a smile, red lips quirking up. "No offense taken, but I am curious. Your eyes have not strayed from that piece of bread since you stopped staring at my older brother. One could assume you are in love with the former and hate the latter."

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "I do not hate Sawada-dono," he said, well aware that telling anything else might earn him a one-way trip to the block. "Regarding the bread, it is quite good. The…texture fits well with the sauce." He felt slightly ashamed of talking about cuisine, but figured this was better than having her go on about him hating the heir to the throne.

As if having read his thoughts, a pearly laugh left Yui's mouth. "It does, does it not?" She nodded at the cup with creamy orange sauce. "Ikya—a specialty from Ike. Rare to get, even in Sukoru. But," she said, eyes twinkling with amusement, "enough of the food. It is quite good, but I am more curious about you, Uchiha-san. What are you interested in beside bread and sauce?"

For a treacherous second, he wondered if she was referring to herself. Then he discarded the thought. Even if she was, entanglements of this nature only led to trouble. Though, admittedly, there was something to be said for the allure of having sex with royalty. And he doubted that, if he ever entertained the notion of following up on that goal, considerations of status would even enter Yui's mind. She had the kind of smile, that way of moving her body, sensuous in every subtle shift, that bespoke a multitude of sins concealed under her kimono.

And she grew happier, it seemed, the harsher Sawada's glare became from across the table. Shrugging, Sasuke put the bread aside. "There isn't much that holds my interest beyond being a shinobi." He thought of his mother's flute, and short verses of prayer found in a book his father had often read, but those were personal. Definitely nothing he would tell a stranger, beautiful she might be.

"There must be something," she said.

Insistent, and he was glad that eventually the word healing came to mind. It was related to being a shinobi, but maybe that would satisfy her. He mentioned it, casually, taking up the bread again. It was really quite good.

Yui made a surprised noise. "That makes you quite the conundrum," she said. "I always thought shinobi an anathema to life." The comment had barely left her lips when her eyes widened.

But her father seemed interested only in Sakura's explanation to Iho about the Season of Carmine, when, in the mountains south of Konoha, grapes were harvested and D-ranked missions issued because the locals tended to plant more than they could feasibly gather themselves. Likewise, Sawada had taken to glaring at Sakura now, and Taichi seemed focused on the platter of fruit before him.

Seeing that no one had noticed her slip-up, Yui addressed Sasuke again: "I apologize. That was a…thoughtless comment."

It was a strange bond of kinship which formed that second, and did so only because she seemed to be unfamiliar with apologizing as well, her words stiff and unpracticed even though the flash of embarrassment was real.

He had the sudden urge to the see that moment of embarrassment again, to crack open, if only a little, the façade of the perfect princess entertaining guests.

"In essence," he said, "we are what you assume us to be."

There was a miniscule twitch of her eyes, but that was all. Composure restored, she was the perfect host again. "What made you take up healing?"

"An injury," he said. "It is healed now, but I find the skill useful enough to continue pursuing it."

She nodded. "You might be interested in some of the knowledge our Jikaa offers. I do not know how much the practice differs for shinobi and civilians, but there must be something useful in all those dusty shelves."

Sasuke meant to respond, but stopped short when Sakura tensed up beside him. His attention swiveled over to the two princes.

Sawada sat staring at Iho. "The gall it takes to speak ill of the late Kazekage while sitting in the presence of Konoha is astounding, little brother."

Iho waved him off. "It's his own fault for conspiring with Orochimaru. The treaty he broke had been in place for over twenty years."

Sasuke noticed that Yui was focused on the pair, too, and saw a flash of irritation in her expression.

"A treaty put into place after Konoha won the war," Sawada said. "May I remind you, brother, that back then our nation had no choice? You are, as always, blinded by an incessant love for all things foreign."

"Enough, both of you," the Daimyo said.

Sawada looked at his father in sadness, shaking his head. "You are siding with the invaders," he said, nodding at Sakura and Sasuke, "and I can't understand it. Where is your pride, father? How can you tread on your nation like this?"

Yui said, "Sawada—"

"There seems to be none left," Sawada continued addressing his father. "And now you're sitting here, eating and drinking with the very people that force us from one treaty into another? Explain it to me so I may understand. Why?"

Sasuke wondered whether the Daimyo would let them go soon. The discussion had long since entered territory that no help-seeking Konoha-nin should have to witness. But the Daimyo did nothing of the sort. Rather, he regarded his son with a cold look. "You were barely five when we made the treaty. Do not speak about matters you have no knowledge of."

"Are you telling me they did not force you to accept back then? That they have not held a knife to your throat until you signed it?"

"I am telling you that pride matters less than my people. I am telling you that, after signing my name, I witnessed twenty years in which our nation blossomed. Twenty years, boy, that have been destroyed in six months by that war-hungry fool who called himself the Kazekage."

"So you don't deny it," Sawada said, shaking his head. "Twenty years, you say, of uplifting? I call it twenty years of servitude, to a nation which does not deserve it."

"Enough!" the Daimyo said. "Go to your chambers, son, and reflect. We will speak about this when the first bell tolls in the morning."

Sawada was still for a moment, then he rose slowly from his cushion and left the table.

The Daimyo turned back to them. "It is most unfortunate that you had to witness this. I fear that your presence has made my eldest child most unreasonable." He paused for a moment. "Regarding the questions I still have, I will call on you throughout the coming weeks. I hope you do not object to staying for a while?"

"We would be honored," Sakura said, "but our teammate…"

"Do not worry. I will make the necessary inquiries for you. In the meantime, I ask that you do not leave the palace, however. I will study the results of Joha's report in more detail throughout the upcoming weeks and want you at hand to clarify if needed."

The man looked exceedingly weary now. His offer to stay becoming a demand didn't surprise Sasuke though. They accepted, inclined their heads, and then went for their shared guest chamber.

A hallway before they reached it, Taichi appeared in front of them. Sasuke had sensed the small surge of chakra but couldn't pinpoint the kind of shunshin used.

"Taichi-san," Sakura said. "Is there something the Daimyo forgot to tell us?"

"No," Taichi said. "I'm here to make sure we're on the same page." He smiled at them. "We're all shinobi, so allow me to be frank: Keep to the rules common courtesy dictates, or there will be consequences." His smile widened. "Don't worry though. I'm easy to get along with."

That was as clear a warning as one could have expected. Which meant no spying on the royal family or murdering them.

Sakura reciprocated with a honeyed smile of her own. "No need to worry, Taichi-san. Konoha's lessons on etiquette are quite extensive."

Taichi laughed. "I can believe that."

* * *

Until the torture started, the life of a prisoner was mostly just mind-numbingly boring. Naruto stood bound to the pole, incapable of moving, or using chakra, or doing much of anything, really. The constant standing would have melted his legs if he weren't a shinobi, but he was, and so they held out. The first day he spent worrying, over everything. How were Sasuke and Sakura? What would they do with him? Why hadn't Temari come back with food yet? Was there a chance to escape? But as the hours passed, those thoughts turned into anything at hand that could help pass the time.

No, he was fine for now. Fine in the most abstract sense, that was. Fine like a slice of pork swimming in broth, shortly before it was consumed. Afloat, but for how long? Fine, also, like the Hokage hat in its red glory…a minute before a bird took a dump on it, or a monkey, though he doubted monkeys would do anything to the old man, being his buddies and all.

He stared around the inner workings of the tent, which hadn't changed much, or not at all to be specific. A bunch of crates, a few barrels smelling of peppermint, two rolled-up carpets, a load of straw in the corner, and a charming old lamp, fastened to the pole a few inches above, that ran on a chakra battery. Behind him, out of sight now, was a bowl of coals. He had seen it when they brought him inside.

Naruto wondered if there was a darker comparison to make. Pork and Jiji's hat were happy things. But he was a prisoner, and his thoughts should reflect that state of being. He furrowed his brow, then thought, _I'm fine, like one of Orochimaru's test subjects, a minute before he walks in._ But that conjured uncomfortable pictures of Kakashi-sensei. It didn't really matter so much what he compared himself with. He was, for now, quite healthy. He was also a prisoner, and for quite a while hadn't seen a soul. Neither Temari to bring him food, nor an interrogator to squeeze him for answers.

The last part he was fine with. Temari was much worse. He had banked on her agreeing to an exchange of food for information. But so far there had been no sign of his plan working at all. Around the clock, his stomach was making that gurgling sound of despair, and the more it gurgled, the more he despaired as well.

He thought it was three days since they chained him to the post, but time was an iffy thing to measure accurately. For the most part he was gauging it from where the sun shone through the thin cloth of the tent, and he used his toe—rather the only part of his body he could move—to mark the position in the sand.

Usually, right after he made the second mark, there came a gust of wind or a bad movement on his part, and all got wiped away.

Then the tent flap was pushed aside. Naruto's hope for Temari died a quick death. Outwardly full of bravado, but also knowing that he really, _really_ , didn't want to have this conversation, he grinned at the man entering.

Ren looked relaxed. He also wore a sick puppy of a smile.

"Nice of you to come by," Naruto said. "Make yourself at home. It's no palace, but from pure observation I can tell you: That crate over there looks incredibly comfy."

Next thing Naruto knew, his head lolled back and he felt dazed, as though having smashed full force against a mountain.

"Spare yourself the hassle and work with me," Ren said. "If you tell me what I want to know, your life will get much easier."

Naruto spat on the ground. "Easy isn't any challenge. You should know that, living out here and losing to Konoha."

This time he saw the fist coming. Naruto's head shot back from the impact, slamming against the pole. Pain shot from the back of his head down his body, the force of the blow vibrating inside him.

"Have it your way," Ren said. "We'll get there eventually, don't worry." Rubbing his hands, he looked about the tent. Naruto noticed for the first time that Ren had a small leather bag attached to his belt.

"What's your name?"

Naruto thought on this. Temari hadn't told Ren, then. Or they were just screwing with him, which was always a possibility.

"Jiraiya," he said, at length.

As far as reactions went, the one Ren showed was predictable, as were the questions that followed. Ren asked about his rank, his teammates, his teachers; Naruto answered that he was a proud academy student who had killed his teacher in a last test of strength, which was the general way the apprentice system worked in Konoha.

The punches grew in viciousness, and Naruto felt dizzy at times, white flickers dancing behind his eyes. Ren changed the nature of his questions. "How far has Danzō scouted?"

The world was blurring, then leaping back into clarity. Naruto looked at the stubble-chinned bastard, feeling his left eye swell shut. He thought the current interrogation techniques shoddy as hell—Kakashi-sensei would disapprove, definitely—but they hurt, more than he'd like to admit.

Focusing on Ren's chin, to keep his thoughts together, he said, "Up to Iwa. There's nothing his eye doesn't—"

The hook sent Naruto's head flying to the left. He belched blood onto the sand.

"How far?"

Naruto gasped for breath. His head was still now, but felt like it was spinning away like a whipping top anyway.

"I'll tell you! I'll tell you…" He delayed the answer for more air until Ren got twitchy. Then he said, "It's not hard to measure, really. Pull down your pants and stick your head between your legs. You'll find the answer."

He braced himself for impact, not knowing why he said the things he did. He should just shut up. But wouldn't he be tortured for information anyway? It was idiocy to provoke the bastard, but there was something fundamentally opposed inside him that made him continue nevertheless. A feeling that, if he were to submit, he'd lose the last, crucial and threadbare bit of control he had left.

The anticipated punch never arrived. Ren stood before him, looking grim but also strangely satisfied. He walked over to the crate Naruto had earlier described as comfortable. He unclasped the leather bag from his belt, which turned out to be a foldable piece of leather with an assortment of sharp and steely objects, arranged in the loving and principled ways of a psychopath. Ren had stopped speaking, tracing the tip of a serrated kunai with his fingertip. Then he walked behind Naruto.

"You know," Ren said, close to his ear, "it's much more fun this way. I guess I have to thank you."

Naruto' eyes were fixed on the instruments. Hearing Ren behind him, shuffling in the sand, breathing…The inability to turn and look was worse than all the punches dished out. Suddenly the objects in the tent began throwing larger shadows, and Naruto felt a warmth press against his back that made him wonder whether the tiny amount of preserved control was worth it.

The bowl of coals was fired up.

* * *

When Ren exited the tent at last, leaving the smell of burnt flesh and blood behind, and the tent filled with smoke wafting in thick carpets, Naruto counted the day as a victory, even if it was a shallow one. He hadn't spilled anything but his guts, after all.

Still, the burns on his thighs and arms sent searing pulses through his body, accompanied by the scent of burnt hair. When his blood-smeared lips twitched in a poor smile, his stomach cramped, his diaphragm making for a move his battered body couldn't support.

In the following hours he hung limply from the pole, groaning. Standing upright had become harder. He let go of his stance once, but then readjusted himself again, because the rope chaining him bit painfully into his wrists. The hurt from the stabs, punches and fire dulled eventually, giving way to another kind of pain. From his toes to his fingertips, a slow-moving heat spread through him. He knew the feeling. The intensity had been much higher before though. Back then he had felt as though boiling water shot through every limb; now it was more like being in the thrall of an early stage of fever. Unpleasant, but not too painful. Where the feeling came from, now that was another issue altogether.

Naruto glanced at his stomach, then at the part of the restriction seal that began on his biceps and snaked its way onto his back. The binding of his chakra worked, just not for every entity. Maybe the Kyuubi was weakened, but not to the same degree as him. _Well_ , he thought, _that's what happens when you invite a Jinchūriki to tea_. And he did his best not to chuckle, though he searched out every bit of amusement to keep himself sane. In the meanwhile he let the healing take place, brow furrowed. It was still an unpleasant feeling. He despised the necessity of relying on it—not that he thought he could stop it—but he definitely welcomed the effect. Half an hour later, the heat dispersed. It left him with a dull impression of pain that lingered around, but could be easily ignored.

The possibility to escape was there. If he could gauge how much of Kyuubi's chakra made it through the seal. But Naruto hesitated. For now, the healing was freely offered, but he would never forget his previous encounter with the Bijū. All that malice, the contempt, and the consequences after using its chakra to heal Sasuke…He had asked the Kyuubi for help, and had received it with a boatload of baggage. Deals with the Devil, it turned out, was something you did once. Usually the fallout made the decision of not entering into another one easier.

In the end, he stood still as he could, not to agitate his wrists, and he thought first of Sakura, who right now probably had gone through several panic attacks, even if that meant thinking rather highly of himself, and then of Sasuke, who hopefully did his best to keep a cool head and calm Sakura while devising a plan to get him out, and lastly he thought, _I think I understand you better now Kakashi-sensei; and whatever happens, I won't tell them anything; whatever happens, I won't break; whatever happens, you were my sensei and I'll hold out like you did, because I am Team Seven, and we never give up._

He looked at the seal on his stomach, which began, act of healing complete, to fade. The idea between rampaging uncontrollably in the camp with the Kyuubi's power was enticing, but for now he would resist. Then he thought on Jiji and his friends, wondering if Shino was still training hard to compensate for his arm, even if he was classed as a reserve, and also of his former students, hoping that none of them would ever be taken captive, and also of the little kids from Suna, thinking that they should be spared the cruelties of war. And as he began wondering about Jiraiya, and where the old pervert might be, his mind wandered to the a-grade women he had seen in Suna's street, red sashes worn proudly and inviting, and somewhere in those thoughts, the tent now drenched in darkness, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

He would wake at times, barely suppressing a howl, his chakra coils becoming hot coals, his pathways heated iron, and everything inside twisting and turning. The sensation would vanish quickly, and he would fall into another restless sleep.

Later the tent flap was pushed aside cautiously. Naruto woke immediately, blinking through bleary eyes. Was it morning already? No sunlight reached the tent though, so it couldn't be another round with Ren. Slowly, Temari's figure came into clarity. She held a bowl of gruel in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. There was sense of unease in her movements, a feeling of cautiousness, that made him conclude her visit wasn't on Ren's order.

"You came," Naruto said. He cursed himself for sounding desperate, but controlling the emotions in his voice didn't come easy after the last days.

Temari nodded, carefully placing the food and water on a crate, before layering a Genjutsu around the tent. "I did." There was a momentary trace of pity in her expression, but then it hardened. "Let's make this clear from the beginning: You give me information on my brother in exchange for food. Nothing else. I won't loosen your seals, let you sit, or anything of the sort. You won't play games with me, and if I think you're lying to me, then I'm out of here and Ren can have you for all I care."

"Nothing to add there," Naruto said, eying the gruel, which looked like the most delicious meal in the world right now. Time and again his stomach had risen in furious protest. The mere possibility of food excited it enough to make strange gargling noises. It was a bit scary though that the bowl stood on the same crate where Ren had unfolded his leather bag of party items. He nodded at the bowl. "If you could please…"

Temari crossed her arms, and Naruto saw that there was a heavy amount of cleavage now on display. But the important matters came first. "Not this time," Temari said. "Before you get anything, I want to know about Gaara."

"Can't this wait until I've eaten?"

"No. We do this by my rules now."

She settled on a crate next to the bowl, looking at him. "What happened to my brother? How…How was he caught? Where—"

"Easy there," Naruto said, throwing a regretful look at the food. "One question at a time. If I have to answer first, at least let's do this in a way that actually works."

"How was Gaara captured?"

Naruto thought on this. "That's hard to answer, to be honest." At her severe look he continued quickly, "I mean, I was fighting at a completely different place during the battle. And his capture definitely isn't on public record. I read up on most of what happened back then."

"So you know nothing? Great. This is a waste of my time, then."

Naruto snorted, but that was evidently the wrong thing to do. Temari rose from the crate and went for the exit. Seeing his first meal in days disappear, Naruto called out: "Wait!"

She turned halfway. "What?"

"You want to know about Gaara, I get that," Naruto said. "But you have to ask questions I can answer! How am I supposed to know about his capture?" Temari hesitated, and Naruto added, "He's a Jinchūriki for God's sake. His capture is classified higher than the panties you're currently wearing."

There was a weird quirk in her face, speaking of amusement and anger at once. But she had stopped moving and settled down again. Suddenly her eyes widened as the rest of the statement set in. "You know what he is," she said in a whisper.

"Of course I know."

"How?"

"He told me." Technically that wasn't a lie. They _had_ talked about their prisoners.

"Gaara _told_ you?" She clenched her fist. "You're lying to me, I fucking knew it."

"Hold your horses, Temari" Naruto said, half-pleading, half-angry. "I'm not lying. How would you even know? I've heard your familial ties weren't the best, were they? Him being a dangerous monster and all. Is it so hard to believe that he spoke to people who didn't discriminate against him?"

"Gaara's not a monster," Temari said, though something in her expression told Naruto of a quiet shame.

"I know he isn't, but do you? I'd wager a lot of my non-existent fortune that you weren't preparing his lunch for him back in the days."

She still didn't look entirely convinced, but hesitation clouded her expression now. Even if not everything he said was true, some of it apparently hit home.

"Let's assume you're not lying," she said, leaning back on the crate. "Have you hurt him?"

"Meaning Konoha?" Naruto shook his head. "Not that I know of. He's quite comfortable actually. Much more than I am right now. Big room, nice kitchen, furniture from the most expensive wood you can buy." _Expensive for a good reason_ , he added mentally. "Having lived in Konoha all my life, I can attest to our facilities for political prisoners being far more luxurious than my shitty apartment ever was. Can you believe that?"

Her lips pulled up in a dry grin. "I can, yes." The knowledge that her brother wasn't held in a sinister dungeon seemed to work wonders on her composure. The tension left her shoulders, and her expression became less guarded, even though still appropriately so for speaking with a prisoner.

Dealing with her would be far easier if she wasn't drawn taut like a Shamisen string about to rip.

"What about—"

"Ah-Ah," Naruto shushed her. "Enough for now. Still got to eat for a while, and Ren didn't look like he'd let me anytime soon."

Temari pursed her lips. "Tell me more, or…"

"Or what, you'll let me starve to death?" He furrowed his brow. "Listen, I've played by your rules, right? I answered some questions—you've learned something important about your brother. Can you please…please keep to your own rules now?"

For a moment it looked as though she'd ignore him. And she could, in truth. There was always the possibility that Naruto had misjudged how much she cared for her brother. That all she wanted to know was that Gaara was safe.

Eventually she rose from the crate. First she let him drink, then she fed him with the spoon. Under different circumstances this might have been funny, but at the moment all Naruto could focus on was the texture of the gravy as it sloshed through his mouth. Food, God.

The bowl was almost empty, only three spoonfuls remaining, when Naruto's thoughts finally caught up with the situation, and his incredible wit shone through once more. "Can you flavor this next time?" he asked, swallowing. "It's a bit dull. There's this mix of—Hey, Hey! What are…No! Don't!"

But it was too late. Temari tilted the bowl, and the last remains of gruel spilled in glops onto the sand.

Naruto looked disbelievingly at the wasted food, then at her, back to the food, then at her again. "You're a real bitch, you know that?"

He expected a punch for it, really, but all the reaction he got was an amused smile. Then Temari swiped sand over the gruel and left the tent.

* * *

The moon was high, and Sakura braced herself against the white-marbled guardrail that fenced in the small plateau she stood on. Like everything else in the capital, the Daimyo's garden, too, was built in layers. From here, the tallest but also smallest plateau in the whole garden, Sakura had a beautiful view on the lit up capital below, where scattered across all heights, lights bloomed like peach blossoms in the darkness.

She turned away from the rail and toward the high-grown magnolia that was the centerpiece of the plateau. Dozens of flowers all around the tree complimented its white and pink petals, and between them sat two benches.

She ambled over to them, letting herself fall into the right one with a sigh. Two weeks ago they had arrived in the capital, and so far nothing of note had happened. The Daimyo would call at times, asking for clarification on something in the report, and assuring them that he had made inquiries and was waiting on answers as to their teammate's location, same as them.

If he spoke the truth Sakura had no ability to judge, but even if he didn't, what could she do? It was frustrating, mostly because boredom had become her worst enemy. Not due to its innate qualities, but more because a lot of free time left her mind wandering, and where her thoughts traveled to, or better, to whom her thoughts traveled, wasn't hard to guess either.

She wasn't religious, never had been, beside the general sense that something was out there, but for days now she found herself praying. From Amaterasu to Odaya she prayed that Naruto would survive. That the blond who belonged as much to her as her body, her beating heart, would find his way back to them safely.

In the meanwhile, while Sasuke had barricaded himself in the royal Jikaa with Yui's permission, she busied herself with exploring the palace. Strictly above board, of course. Each part was patrolled, and she made it a habit to ask the guards for permission before entering any place, Taichi's words still clear in her mind.

A few times she had come upon Iho, who was strolling through the gardens and the city, always cheerful and never really studying for any kind of administration job. The opposite of his brother it seemed, who prepared in earnest for the time when the Daimyo's age caught up with him and the throne would fall to him. There were a few public spats that she witnessed, but one of the maids, a quiet, unassuming woman of fifty, had told her in confidence that this happened often and she should not let it bother her too much. The brothers had grown up with wholly different attitudes and values. Iho, it seemed, had only visited the Jikaa in Ike because his father had forced him to.

Sakura reclined her head, looking at the moon, arm hanging over the bench, fingertips brushing lightly over the flowers. It was a nostalgic feeling. The smell reminded her of Ino, who had, at times, come to the academy enveloped in a fragrance of roses and the sweetness of jasmine. Sometimes her outfit had been a bit dirty from the work at the shop, and Sakura was always quick to tell her how ridiculous it looked, even though she was, admittedly, a bit envious of the incredible relationship Ino shared with her father.

"You have taken a liking to our garden, then?" The soft voice came from the right, and Sakura startled. It wasn't much more than a twitch, but she chided herself nonetheless, Danzō's words echoing in her head. No matter how inviting the surroundings, this was still enemy territory until the pacification was complete.

"Yui-dono." Sakura rose fluidly from the bench, inclining her head. She didn't comment on how unusual it was to see the princess without a full guard detail, and at that time of night no less.

"Please, Yui shall suffice tonight." The princess smiled at her, then moved over to the edge of the plateau. "To be honest with you, Sakura-san, I absconded from my chambers—a daring adventure, would you not agree?"

Yui laughed, and now, looking closer, Sakura saw that the dress she wore was not nearly as ornery and well put together as usual, as if it had been thrown on in great haste and without care. There was no jewelry adorning her head, nor had her hair gone through the complicated process of making it look like fine architecture. It was—for royal standard—crudely tugged into a ponytail, and for the first time Sakura could appreciate how long Yui's hair truly was. Unfettered by obstructions, beside the knot at the neck level, it reached almost to her calves.

"It certainly appears so," said Sakura, making an effort to relax her voice. If anything happened to the princess while she was out with her, no connection to Konoha could save her from the block. "And yes, this place is wonderful. I've been here quite often since we arrived. There's something about it, something…"

"… _transcendent_?" asked Yui.

And even if it wasn't exactly what Sakura had wanted to say, she nodded. "You could call it that, I guess."

"It is, at least, how I feel up here." Yui turned fully now, looking out over the glowing capital below. "Everything looks so tiny from here, so much that it sometimes seems unreachable. As if I was living in a palace in the heavens, right beside Odaya. From here I observe the coming and goings of the world, and each of these lights"—she made a sweeping motion with her hand toward the city—"every single one of them is a soul, soon on its way to ascend to this place."

Sakura joined her, leaning against the guardrail but keeping an eye on the princess. "Soon? Is that not a bit grim if you equate ascension of the soul with death?"

"Relatively speaking," answered Yui. "For gods, how does time fly by? Fast I'd imagine, and if this were truly the palace of heaven, then the blink of an eye would be the span of a man's life, and soon entirely appropriate."

She turned to Sakura, blinking rapidly, then laughed. "See? In this scenario, a generation—two even, or three—are now on their way up here, where Odaya will welcome them."

"What happens with them when they have been welcomed and passed the threshold?" asked Sakura.

Yui bent down and plucked a Canna from the ground, showing Sakura the red, yellow-rimmed petals. Under the light of her lantern it looked as though the princess was holding a bouquet of rising suns.

"When they have been welcomed? Well, Odaya is the god of tranquility—I'd imagine he would want them to be just as much at ease as he is." Yui brushed her fingertips over the petals. "A flower might fit. Yes, I very much like that idea. Beautiful and at peace, wouldn't that be ideal for the souls of those toiling below?"

"I imagine the souls below would like it until the weather changes," said Sakura. "Rain may nurture them, but what about wind? A torn out flower, thrown around by squalls is far from peaceful."

Yui laughed, and contrary to the quiet, well-trained laugh of the dinner, this one sounded truly amused. "There are no storms in paradise, Sakura-san, I am sure." She paused. "What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Flowers is what I came up with," said Yui. "But if you were the guide of all these souls—and for this night only, I give you the power to be just that—what would they become?"

Sakura thought for a moment, then smiled at the princess. "Rain."

"Rain?"

"Each soul a drop of water," explained Sakura, "to wash away the tears of the bereaved, and then to fall onto the earth where they can nurture life once more." And as she spoke, Sakura thought of her mother, and hoped that it was just like that. "Each soul is then a part of everything, and we are never really far away from those we lost."

In the minutes afterwards, both were silent, staring out into the vast expanses of Sukoru and beyond, until a self-deprecating chuckle left the princess's lips and made Sakura look up.

"Is something wrong?" asked Sakura.

Yui walked away from the guardrail and began strolling back to the benches. Sakura followed, falling in line half a pace behind her.

"I envy you, Sakura-san," said Yui, when they arrived at the large magnolia. "You are many years younger than me"—Sakura found that five years did not constitute as many—"but must have seen so much more of the world. And you are strong, as a shinobi you must be after all."

"There's a price attached to that strength," answered Sakura. And thinking back on Kakashi's training, the Invasion, Orochimaru, her life as a shinobi in general, that price was quite heavy.

Yui nodded. "Of course there is, like with everything else. But wasn't the price worth it? Doesn't it give you the freedom to do something with yourself?"

"First and foremost it binds me to my village," said Sakura. She had an inkling where the princess was going with this, and while she couldn't completely disagree, being a shinobi definitely had enough drawbacks that would outweigh the positives for any sane person. "And if you truly want to go into details, then my freedom does not belong to me, but ultimately to my Hokage."

"But before you committed yourself to becoming a shinobi you had a choice, did you not?"

"I guess so."

"Isn't that the greatest freedom then? To decide for yourself who you want to become?"

Sakura hesitated, but then decided to cut right to the heart. "Is the life in the palace that bad for you? Forgive me if that sounds disrespectful, but I would imagine a princess to be more happy with her position. Your family shapes the future of this country, after all."

Yui laughed, and what had sounded amused only minutes before, was drenched in bitterness now. "You are right, my family does shape the future of this country. My father is the Daimyo after all, and once he dies, Sawada will become his successor. Did you know, Iho is being groomed to become the mayor of Ike; for close to six years now. I used to tease him endlessly about the relation between his name and that of his future city."

Sakura sighed, knowing quite well what would come next. "And you?"

"Why, who would have imagined, but until I am wed to another noble who can then see me as his trophy, I am to remain in the palace, being a beautiful trophy here instead."

There wasn't much Sakura could say to that. Though she wanted to disagree, in essence the princess was right. From what she knew, there were women in positions of power, but those were the ones who ruthlessly had fought their way up the ladder. Yui though had never even had the opportunity to do that.

"I left this palace exactly once," Yui continued with a wistful smile, and Sakura heaved an internal sigh. That, of course, didn't make it any easier. "I was twelve and sneaked past the guards and into the city. Father was furious, you can imagine. When they found me he didn't speak to me for days. Then he tripled my guard, a size at which it has been ever since."

"You still managed to leave them behind tonight."

Yui glanced at her. "Which will be our secret, I hope. I would not want father to increase the detail once more. They guard all the entrances to the palace viciously already, and this bit of freedom inside is all I really have. I just came here to hear something new, unfiltered about life outside, from a person who witnessed it."

"Of course," said Sakura. Then, to bring the princess toward different thoughts, said, "What would you be, if you were free?"

"Many things." Yui shrugged. "A seamstress, maybe? Or a thief—they enjoy, as long as they're not caught, an immense freedom after all. Or a general. Wouldn't that be something, Sakura-san? The daughter of the Daimyo as the general of an army, raising her sword to the heavens and giving grand speeches just before two forces clash…"

"I doubt a life on far-away battlefields would suit you, though," said Sakura. "It sounds glorious, but blood has a way of ruining your day."

Yui looked about to protest, but reconsidered and sighed. "You would know, I guess." She paused. "A queen, then? That, too, would be something I could see myself become."

"Wouldn't that put you back in the palace?"

She shrugged. "It would, but then I could finally decide my life for myself. If I were a queen and would want to leave the palace for a stroll through the city, who would hinder me?" Yui rose from the bench, letting the Canna in her hand fall carelessly to the ground. "Still, I appreciate your honesty. There are not many whom I can talk with so openly."

"I'm at your service, Yui." It was very much unfamiliar to speak the princess's name without a honorific.

Yui glanced at the wandering moon. "We should stop for tonight, Sakura-san," she said with a secretive smile. "It was fun, but all this dreaming does not make it easier. After all, it never storms in the palace of heaven."

Sakura understood well that a storm was what Yui would need, and from all the people she had met in Sukoru so far, her sympathies were with the princess the most. Freedom was a gift, but some were born without it, even in the highest levels of society.

"Please," Yui said before turning to leave, "keep this a secret, will you? I truly do not want my father to know. He'd suffocate me with even more guards."

Sakura smiled at her. "Purely confidential."

"And before I forget, you might want to arrange for a nice Kimono—you can have one of mine if you want. I know my brothers well, and Iho has been quite interested in you. It would not surprise me were he to invite you to a walk or a private dinner soon. Normally I would warn most women away from him, but for a foreigner in your precarious position to reject the prince would be seen as a rather grave insult."

Sakura raised an eyebrow. "Thanks for the hint. I will take care not to make any problems."

Yui chuckled. "That is good, then. Good bye, Sakura-san."

* * *

On a dusty plane in Earth Country, Rōshi sat on a boulder, watching over his apprentice. The sun was hammering them with intensity, and Rōshi shaded his eyes as he observed Daichi move a brush over a bunch of tags.

"Faster!"

Daichi increased in speed, sweat trailing down his brow as the brush blurred. Creating exploding tags was delicate work, but it would be worth nothing if the boy didn't learn to create them on the spot. Not with the fighting style Rōshi intended to teach him.

"Now!"

Daichi finished his stroke, clapped his hands together, and shouted: "Doton: Kibakufuda." He held the technique with his left, while using the right to create chakra strings that would attach the tags to the ball of rock he created.

"Too slow," Rōshi said, now standing behind him. "You'd be dead if I meant to kill you."

Red-faced from exhaustion, Daichi said, "Why do I have to learn this anyway? I thought you wanted to show me how to create an earth dragon."

"That was before we got the missive. Besides," Rōshi motioned toward the tags, "this is a good way to blow stuff up. We'll be doing a lot of that once we're in Wind Country. It's unfortunate but we've no time to teach you more refined methods."

"Wind Country…" Daichi murmured. "Why aren't we there already? The missive came over a month ago, and we've stayed in this place for two weeks already."

Rōshi smiled around the stem of his pipe. "We're waiting for the others."

"The others?"

"What else? Do you think I'd go to Wind Country without any backup?"

"You have me, don't you?"

Rōshi laughed. "Aye, which is another reason I need the backup."

After a while, and a few more tries at creating the earth ball that would blow into many deadly shards once the tags were lit, Daichi asked: "How many are coming?"

Rōshi hummed. "Only a few. Ōnoki that stingy old bastard wouldn't part with more than that. Now concentrate. We don't have much time and once they're here we'll have to set out. I doubt I can teach you much on the road."

And that was, in the end, a real concern for Rōshi. Daichi was annoying at times, and teaching him the finer joys of life went slowly, but the boy had a single-minded determination that was admirable. The longer they lived together, the more Rōshi learned to care for him. No, the boy wouldn't die on his watch.

* * *

 **AN:** Well, that's it for this chapter. Good to hear you folks liked the Temari PoV. This one had just a short moment with her, but a nice Sakura moment. I had quite some fun writing her talk with the princess. I hope you liked it. Any thoughts on Naruto's part so far? (Also, the obligatory thanks to the DLP crew!)


	7. Crossed IV

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Crossed – IV**

* * *

 _A dented bowl filled with water leaves so many more questions than just: is it half-full or half-empty?_

* * *

With the sun burning overhead, Temari surmounted the last distance toward their camp. For the last two weeks she had been out on a mission to the outskirts of Hajim, finding on her return that the camp had changed place. The rotation was an instruction from Senyaku that would, hopefully, leave Konoha's scouts guessing, floundering in the unfamiliar desert.

The kunoichi next to her stretched her limbs. "Great to be back." She stared at the cluster of tents with unabashed desire. Returning from a mission, they were slated for some downtime now.

Temari nodded wordlessly as they passed the circular ring of tents and moved into the center of the camp. That blond pest had actually managed, much to her horror, to keep popping up in her mind during the mission. Like a headache that kept you awake at night, Naruto had stayed in her thoughts, and like a bad dream the possibility of his death had haunted her, for quite self-serving reasons.

Before she left she had mentioned, casually, that he should be fed regularly if they wanted to keep up the interrogation. Ren had looked at her with understanding, praised her even for her thoughtfulness. But two weeks were a long time to survive, certainly for a badmouthing pain in the ass like Naruto. She'd wring his dead little neck if he had antagonized Ren enough to kill him before she could get more information on Gaara.

Passing a few shinobi squatting around a bowl playing dice, she asked, "Where's Ren?"

They looked up, surprised. "You're back," one said with a grin. "Great! Ren's gettin' all twisted in knots; with you here that'll change, I hope. Do us a favor and relax him, will ya? Can't work in peace with him always looking over my shoulder…"

Temari raised an eyebrow. "Work?"

"You know what I mean…"

She eased out a silent sigh. She knew too well what he meant, and it shouldn't surprise her that Ren had become grouchy during her absence. There wasn't much that relaxed that man quite like her body. At least the letter from Kankuro should be there now. Changing the rotation meant a messenger had come to give the order and bring new instructions.

"I can't calm him if you don't tell me where he is," Temari said.

The man took a gulp from his jug. "Probably with the prisoner, like always, I'd say. He's been with that shit for hours each day."

Temari controlled her facial expression carefully. Naruto was still alive then—which was good—but Ren had taken a vested interest in him. "Why? Did he start talking?"

"Talking?" The shinobi shook his head. "He's talking all the time, just not what we want to hear. No, we found out that the little bastard is more valuable than he let on at first. He's got himself a bloodline, and a mighty useful one at that. You prick him, he heals up. It's incredible—took a shot myself, to test it—but he heals right up overnight. Kiro broke his ribs, crazy fatso was laughing, but hey he's always been weird."

"And he healed? They mended?"

"Overnight," the shinobi confirmed. "Next morning he looked like nothing ever happened. I mean, he's dirty and stinks like my grandmother's living room, but damn, beside that he's fine—every damn time."

"So Ren is interrogating no matter the damage?"

"Pretty much. Though I wouldn't call it interrogation so much as letting off steam. Another good reason to be happy you're back. Calm him down, will you?" The shinobi looked pleading. "I can't sleep with all that screaming, or do much of anything really."

"I'll see what I can do," she said, then turned back to her group who had listened with rapt attention. "We're done here. Let's kick back for a few days."

* * *

Later that night she had made her report and received a short piece of paper. Kankuro's chicken scrawl told her nothing at all, though. Her brother wrote in a great hurry and was incredibly cagey. He was working on something big. What? He didn't tell. With whom? His teacher was a genius. His name? Not mentioned once. But he was alive and well and had fun. If it weren't for the zealous undertones and praises to Senyaku, she'd be happy with it, even though the information wasn't worth much. But Kankuro was alive, still. And that wasn't a given in the current situation in Wind Country. She was grateful for that much.

Folding the letter she tucked it in her dress and looked back at the fur-covered hay mattress on which Ren lay, arms and legs spread wide, eyes closed, a satisfied expression on his face, sleeping. Next to him lay, upturned, an earthen decanter, empty. The tent smelled of sex and aromatic oil.

She went over to the bowl of water and carefully finished the washing she had started a few minutes ago, now having only the face left. The water was warm and didn't give her half the rejuvenating kick she expected.

Eventually she left the tent. In the same night, after a few illusions, holding a bowl of gruel and a flask of water in her hands, she went over to Naruto. He hung limply from the pole, rags coated in bloody smears, some fresh, some a dried and crusted brown, his body blotched with bruises.

At her entrance, his swollen face jerked up. "Still not finished, you damn cocksuck—"

He interrupted himself, emotions simmering in his eyes at the sight of her, but before she could identify them they had already vanished again.

"… the last word still fits," he murmured, his crooked grin more an ugly grimace.

Temari shook her head. "Would've thought you'd learn to shut up after two weeks with Ren."

"That phony shutting me up? You better be joking, Temari." He winced as he moved. "No, that's not even funny. Two weeks under the sun and your brain's mush."

Had he been healthier, she might have slugged him for his comments. Right now though, even with a healing bloodline, his body looked like it would break down after a fart, never mind an actual punch.

They flung another row of insults at each other, then settled down to eat and talk. Temari listened to the stories Naruto told, always hovering between outright disbelief and then playing out the situations and scenes he described in her head. She still couldn't be sure if anything he said was the truth, but even if it wasn't—and that was a confession never to reach the ear of anyone—she wouldn't mind too much: just hearing her brother's name mentioned in these abstruse but happy contexts brought a singularly fascinating peace of mind to her, as if just hearing the name was a healing balm all on its own.

"You can't be serious," she said, "Gaara would never…"

"I tell you, he's got the hots for her."

"And you know that how?"

"The way he behaved? I mean, I got along with him, but Sakura? She was something else entirely. It was actually funny to see how much more attentive he became when she entered the room."

"I still can't believe it," Temari said, shaking her head. "Gaara isn't…even with all you've told me the change would never be this drastic."

Naruto shrugged, but groaned as the movement proved too much for his battered body. "Must be easier to think and live without a demon whispering sweet nothings into your ear," he ground out through the pain. "Jiraiya-sama's pretty good with seals. Hokage-sama, too, I think. They did good work."

"What was the sealing process? He's the Kazekage's son. I'm sure if the knowledge was common, our father would have found a way. We've seal masters here in Suna, too."

"Do I look like I waded through the mysterious world of seals?" He raised a blood-crusted eyebrow. "As to the last point…well, who knows? Maybe Gaara made a better weapon that way? Or maybe Suna didn't have the sealing abilities needed after all. Or maybe your father just fucked with Gaara on principle? I can't say."

That stung, again. Because she remembered far too well how she stood bowing before her father as a child, when he told her that she was to keep away from Gaara while he grew up. That any further contact was forbidden until he said so.

She remembered the shame back then, the try to go against the order, the failure of really attempting it, and lastly the capitulation to her father's wishes. How, after a while, she even stopped watching Gaara from afar, afraid it would be noticed, and seeing strongly the displeasure the name Gaara brought her father and everyone around him.

Over a decade later she still felt all of it, most of all the horrifying conclusion that it had been too late when she was finally put on a team with her brother. That isolation and assassination and hatred had shaped Gaara into what they always said he was. That in all aspects of being a sister, she had failed.

Naruto had grown silent. When she looked up at him, she saw him observe her with undecipherable eyes. And she found it frightening almost, the way in which his words pierced all the delusions she had constructed for herself. Then his eyes closed, and snapped open a second later, confused and tired.

Ren's beating had taken its toll.

So far she hadn't seen any healing bloodline, but contrary to her comrades she wasn't too keen on seeing it.

"I'll leave you be for now," she said.

He murmured a tired 'thanks' in response, inclining his head as much as his injuries allowed, and she left the tent.

* * *

Kakashi leaned against a tree in the private training area of the Hokage. Every five minutes his eyes wandered from his book to the slowly moving sun above, and as that happened for the tenth time and still no sign of Tsunade was to be seen, he closed his book with a clap.

In the last weeks Tsunade and him had started to get their bodies back into shape with rigorous conditioning. So far it looked like the training would be more to his benefit than Tsunade's. Her immense medical knowledge, as well as her studies on chakra itself, were so much of an asset that he, upon reassessing, found his own methods sorely lacking in comparison. The gulf between them in chakra control alone was stupefying, and he had always considered himself more than just proficient in the area.

His eyes wandered to the sun again. Today was supposed to be the first day they sparred, and Tsunade wasn't punctual. Normally he'd have no issue with that, but as she almost clobbered him back into the hospital when he came too late on their first session, this absence was more than strange.

Had some Kage business gotten between her and the training? As the current overseer of the village, they had to plan around her schedule as it was. But then she could have sent a summon. Katsuya had delivered messages before.

Once the hour was full, Kakashi left the training ground. At first he made for the house his team had bought, but then, half the way already behind him, he turned, eased out a sigh, retraced his steps to the last crossroad, and continued on the path that would lead him directly to the estate Tsunade and Shizune were living in.

The two-storey building with the slanted roof of brown tiles was an off-shoot from the former Senju compound, from which the rest had long been integrated into the village. Tsunade had never seen the sense in keeping all these buildings to herself. Kakashi was sure most of them paid for a substantial part of her debts.

A brick wall covered in vines fenced in the house and a bit of garden in the back. There was a large maple in the front yard. Once there had been a gate in the archway through which the cobblestone steps led up to the house; now though, there was only the covered arch, slightly crumbled at places.

Kakashi paused, glanced at the way he had come, took a step back, hesitating. Then he squared his shoulders and moved through the archway up to the door and knocked.

While he waited, he looked around. The window on the second level was open. So either Shizune or Tsunade had to be there. Maybe she forgot the date of their training? But after a while, no one came to let him enter.

He frowned looking at the archway, then at the open window, back to the archway, and, like a pendulum, his gaze swung from one to the other as he mapped out his next step. Most wouldn't dare…and he probably shouldn't either…his life would definitely be much safer if he didn't…but his mind also fought his curiosity, a trait that made him a good shinobi just as often as it made him a bad one…

A grin formed under his mask, his eyes now firmly fixed on the second floor. A moment later he entered the house through the window. Kakashi stepped softly onto the floor, finding himself in a bedroom, luckily unoccupied at the moment. The bed wasn't made though, and on the floor lay a black brassiere, the sheer size of which led him to one simple conclusion: He would get thoroughly deconstructed if the owner of the room found him in it.

 _Maybe this isn't such a good idea…_

But he persevered, forging ahead. What would his minions say if they knew he'd cowered away from a challenge?

Kakashi stepped into the hallway, and the grin slid off his face. His nose twitched. Blood. Traces of it lingered in the air. Not the overwhelming stench when you gutted a man, but more subtle.

Kakashi moved on, alert, following the scent down the stairs to the ground level, passing by the kitchens and finally into the living room. His eye widened. Tsunade knelt on the floor, a blood-smeared kunai beside her. She was staring at her red palms, face frozen.

And the situation crashed into Kakashi with clarity. He had forgotten, but now, looking back, nothing they had done so far—not even their little spat in the office—had led to anything bloody. Conditioning and control exercises definitely didn't. The spar that was scheduled for today, and their future training however…It was inevitable that those became bloody, especially with shinobi of their caliber.

Kakashi rushed over to Tsunade. He kicked the kunai out of her sight, heaved the unresponsive woman onto her feet, led her over to the sofa and sat her down. He glanced around the room. On the coffee table stood a bowl with snacks and treats. He dumped them on the floor, filling the bowl with a water technique, and then began washing her hands. First the left, carefully scrubbing finger after finger, the back of her hand, the palm, until the water had turned red and the hand with the slits was clean. Then came the right hand, which wasn't nearly as much work as it had only held the kunai. Still, he did the same procedure, until that hand, too, was clear of blood.

Kakashi took the bowl out of the room, tossing it into the sink in the kitchen.

Tsunade was still sitting unresponsive on the sofa when he came back. She was staring at her palms as if they held the answer to the universe. Kakashi crouched in front of her, searched her hazel eyes and found not terror in them, but distance, an emotional remoteness that seemed familiar for all the wrong reasons. The glazed over glance of someone swallowed by their memories, overcome with the never abating question of 'w _hat if?_ '...The kind of question that came up again and again, no matter how often you answered it.

He had seen it in his father's eyes, then lived it himself.

Kakashi called Tsunade's name. She didn't react. He shook her lightly; she kept staring. The tries grew more numerous until he had enough. His hand rushed from right to left in a sharp motion, and Tsunade's head moved with it, a smack resounding in the room.

He barely avoided the blow that came as retaliation.

Tsunade looked at him, confused, until she saw the crudely healed slashes on her palm, connected them to him, and sunk deeper into the cushions of the sofa. "It didn't work," she said, voice deeper than usual, grave but disappointed. "I had hoped a direct confrontation would help."

Kakashi sat down beside her.

Tsunade was silent for quite a while, her eyes still fixed on her hands, but without the vacancy of before. "I should've told you," she said, her fingers now glowing green as she began to mend the damage on her own, healing over his crude work. "It was obvious that you forgot—I didn't make it a habit to announce it anyway, that much pride as a kunoichi I still had, so maybe you didn't even know in the first place…"

"I knew," Kakashi said, interrupting her. He felt a spark of annoyance at himself. Details like that were the bread and butter of shinobi. "I just didn't think about it," he admitted. "You acted quite normal, Tsunade-sama."

"I planned to make this work before we started sparring." She got up and went over to a cabinet out of which she took two bottles. "What kind of use would I be if I'm afraid of blood?" she said, reaching him one with a half-smile, more grim and self-deprecating than happy. "Senju Tsunade, who couldn't stand the sight of her own palms…laughable. My apologies in any case. I _will_ find a way to make this work."

Kakashi accepted the liquor and it came to him that this was quite a personal situation. He doubted many had ever talked to her about anything not work related. Shizune maybe, and her teammates and family. The knowledge that under the exterior of a woman like her lurked the same emotions, fears and problems that everyone had was humbling in a sense. It also made him uncomfortable.

He sat, and he drank, and he wondered if Minato-sensei had had problems like that, too? Probably, everyone had them after all. But it was hard to see people walking in the shadow of their own legend. Kakashi let his mind wander. If Minato-sensei had ever looked as vulnerable as Tsunade did just moments ago, how would he have reacted? Shocked, for sure, but perhaps also robbed, because his whole perception of the world back then had relied on one principle: Minato-sensei was larger than life; he was unbeatable, the fastest, the strongest, the wisest of them all.

And then he had died.

At length they emptied their bottles and Tsunade got them a second and then a third round. Those, too, were spent in silence, which was, surprisingly, much more comforting than any talk could have been. Such things never lasted though.

"There are some things I could still teach you about chakra," Tsunade spoke, slightly slurring her words. "Until I get this under control"—she pointed the half-empty bottle at her palm—"there's not much use in fighting."

He glanced at her.

She snorted. "I find no pleasure in hurting myself if that's what you're wondering. But it should be my blood that I get comfortable with first. Besides, it's always there, accessible, and I can heal myself in a few seconds anyway. Much more practical than anything else I could do."

"Just not very successful," he ventured carefully.

"That's true, I s'ppose. But so far I haven't found another way. I thought about asking a Yamanaka, see if someone like Inoichi could help, but that's a no-go. There's not a single Yamanaka currently in the village."

"Inoichi's daughter is here," said Kakashi. "She's at the hospital."

Tsunade waved him off. "I'm talking about an adult Yamanaka. Someone who just started learning their techniques is useless in this case."

They started the fourth round—well, fifth or sixth for Tsunade, Kakashi had stopped counting accurately on her side—and after taking a sip from the fresh bottle, he cleared his throat. "There might be a way. No guarantee though."

Tsunade turned fully to him, eyes suddenly narrowed and full of focus, as if she had never even touched the liquor. "I don't need guarantees. I just need ideas."

Kakashi nodded. "Well, I have the Sharingan…"

"And?"

He paused, feeling slightly light-headed. When was the last time he had drunk this much? "And…I could use Genjutsu on you. Work you into it, get you used to blood, something like that." He blinked rapidly, hoping that would stop the dizziness. "Might be better to ease you into the problem instead of confronting it head-on."

"And when I got used to it in your Genjutsu…"

"Then we'll get you used to real blood."

Having brought forth his full idea and seeing her contemplate it instead of outright denial, he patted himself right on the shoulder. This wasn't his field of expertise, it might even be something medical. Well health of mind was something medical, right? He looked at the bottle. That stuff brought chaos to his thoughts. But, one could not deny, it tasted great. He led the bottle to his lips taking another sip, and then another, and a third, a fourth, a fifth, all the while Tsunade sat beside him, mulling over his proposal.

When Tsunade spoke again, he jolted up from the dozy little nap the liquor had lulled him into. He hadn't heard her, or at least didn't understood what he had heard. But that wasn't his fault. No. It was the sofa's…And still the world spun around his head as though he was the center point of a large watermill. _Splash_ … _Splash_ …The water traveled round the overshot waterwheel.

He groaned; she laughed.

Tsunade replied to his questioning look, "I said that you're a genius."

Inexplicably, Kakashi blushed. Or maybe his head was hot to begin with. He had lost all means to tell over the last hour. Her laughter grew in volume.

"And you can't hold your liquor…" she then continued, shaking her head as she stood up. "I've to do some research. You should get some sleep."

But it was barely the middle of the day…He said nothing about that though, and put the bottle away instead. Soon his body followed the natural progression of things, and slowly he melted into the sofa as though he was a part of it, had never been anything else, really.

* * *

A few nights after her talk with Yui, Sakura found herself clothed in the most beautiful Kimono she had worn in her life to date. The green, silky fabric made her want to touch it for an eternity, if that were possible. Her hair was gathered in a loose bun held up by two golden clips engraved with a lotus, a few strands escaping on purpose. She stood looking at her reflection in a silver vase, observing the way her face shaped when she came closer or leaned back. Here she was to meet with prince Iho, a man, according to Yui, who was unused to being rejected by women.

 _It's not like I'm going to sleep with him_ , she thought, watching the line of rouge across her cheeks, _And if he tries too hard he's got another thing coming, even if his father is the Daimyo. But maybe he just wants to talk. Yeah, Sakura. That's exactly what he wants. Why am I doing this again?_ She sighed _. Right, because it would be an insult not to. And maybe if he has enough fun he'll ask his father to search harder for Naruto._

"You look rather preoccupied with that vase."

"It's wonderful craftsmanship," Sakura said, smoothly turning around to Iho, who came walking down the hallway in a white kimono with black seams. The fabric was the same as hers, probably, but it looked rather pedestrian.

"Not quite reaching your beauty, though."

Now what to say to such a blatant compliment? It was direct and corny, and Sakura thought that she liked it to be complemented, but was rather unused to the complete lack of subtlety.

"Are you saying I'm crafted?" _A masterful stroke to appear like a dunce_ , she thought after the words left her mouth, but Iho rolled with it as if he never expected anything else.

"I certainly detect my sister's hand in your hair," he said, leaning closer, "and her golden clasps as well. Surprising. I always thought she didn't like me too much." Then Iho offered his arm, and Sakura, hesitantly, entered into the close contact. They began walking through the hallways, into a part of the garden she hadn't visited yet, Iho's arm slung around her waist—but not lower, of that she made sure—and her arms hanging uselessly at her sides, while she switched between contemplating this situation in a calm and collected manner, and panicking that this prince worked far too quick.

They eventually arrived on a large plateau far above the city, from which Sakura could see all the lights below. Dozens of small ponds were linked by wooden bridges, all leading up to the pavilion on the small island at the center. Koi swam lazily between the pink lotus blossoms, sharing the pond with flat stones that carried elevated paper lanterns, and statues of animals reaching up from the water. The whole garden was subsumed in a rich, exotic smell, and the sheer beauty of the tapestry of lotus made Sakura's lips flutter.

The prince was silent as he led her over a bridge, stopping when she paused, noticing that some of the animal statues were fountains. The sound of purling water closest to her came from a large fox, which sat regally on its tail and shot a fine arc of water high into the air.

They moved on, to the pavilion. There they seated themselves on a bench made of marble, two stone dragons intertwining behind them.

Iho was the first to break the silence, speaking up to the background noise of the garden. Contrary to the dinner and the short exchange at the vase, he sounded unusually grave. "I know that you are preoccupied with your lost teammate, Sakura-san. And at least about this I wish to be upfront: It is not in my power to allocate resources to his rescue. The only one beside my father who could help you is Sawada, and the chances of him using his network for your gain are slim at best, non-existent at worst."

Sakura couldn't help the widening of her eyes. Had she been that transparent?

"My dominion," Iho continued, "is Ike, and Ike alone. So, if your teammate is the only reason you accepted to meet with me, then I am sorry to say I have nothing to offer you. However, if you are interested in Sukoru, or Wind Country, or maybe even me"—He grinned, now full of confidence—"then trust in my father's information network and let us have a good time. It's a beautiful night, and it's rare that I get to talk with such a beautiful woman."

Sakura looked at him, and what she saw was a man who thought quite a lot of himself, but also had been honest enough to tell her the truth about what he could and couldn't do. For that, at least, she gave him credit. Rejecting him would still be seen as a grave insult though, and it was under this consideration that Sakura accepted, her countenance outwardly pleasant as she smiled, but inwardly now gearing up to utilize her skillset.

The prince might be a nice person, but in the next hours she would calculate his worth solely through the amount of information she could get out of him. That, she decided, made her two things: a cold bitch, and an efficient kunoichi. And in the end, like it or not, that's what she signed up for when she went into this profession. (Though they could certainly have mentioned situations like this in the fine print.)

She rose gracefully and went over to the wooden railing fencing in the pavilion, memories of Tanyū rising up. One month in the entourage of the nobles there had taught her above all else that royalty loved to talk of themselves.

"You're right," she said, looking at the moon fracturing on the water. "It would be a shame to waste this night." She leaned with her back against the railing, looking directly at Iho, who still sat staring at her, grinning. "You mentioned Ike," she said. "I've read about it when I was in Suna. It must be a beautiful place."

"It is, mostly because of the temple." Iho joined her at the railing. "As far as cities go, I could not have wished for my father to make a better choice. Everything there feels freer and…spiritual. With Odaya's temple right there, the people always have an aura of calm around them. The priests offer them guidance, teach their children, advise the elders." His eyes took on a far-away look. "The pottery is beyond comparison, too. And if you're ever there, go to the bell tower of the northern wall."

"Why?" Sakura asked.

"It's the highest point of the city that you can actually reach. From there you can see the most astonishing sight, I guarantee you."

They began wandering over the bridges now, arm in arm, Iho sunken in memory, Sakura cataloging everything he said. "Now you made me curious," she said. "What could possibly be that amazing? The book only told of whispering palm trees."

Iho snorted. "It must be a very old book, then. The palms are beautiful, but by far not the only attraction of my city." He turned slightly. "I don't think I should tell you, actually. It's better to see it for yourself."

"Chances are I won't get to see Ike anytime soon."

"You could always visit me there, I'm sure. Shinobi have vacations, too, don't they?"

"Please," she said, batting her eyes, while thinking, _How would a shinobi get vacation during a war?_

Iho laughed. "Are you quite sure?"

"I am."

"Well, if that's what you wish…You probably know that the symbol of Sukoru is the Iya lotus. These ones," he said, pointing at the lotus floating in the pond. "Ike has a similar symbol, just that the lotus is framed by a triangle. If you ever make it to the bell tower, you will see that every house has several blue shingles arranged this way. There's no exception. The merchants do it, the brothels do it, the schools do it, the administration does it. On every roof, you'll find the same. And that, Sakura-san, is something that amazes me whenever I see it. And I think it would amaze you, too."

"That must have cost an enormous amount of money," Sakura said. "Who paid for it? I can't see merchants and brothels doing it out of their own pockets."

"It was a concerted effort of the priests and the administration, though I believe the priests paid most of it. The triangle is their symbol, you must know, since their temple is shaped like one. The priests are, and I hope this stays purely confidential, the main reason why I am so happy to govern only Ike. They calm the city, like no other force could. And they're for the people, which is rare I think. The tithe they collect is always spent on strengthening the city."

Sakura nodded along. "Have you heard of the Irady worshippers in Earth Country?" she asked.

Iho grimaced. "Exactly what I mean. Can't imagine anyone joining that cult for free. All work and tribute, but never anything that helps the people beyond a few studied phrases. There's a small shrine in Shishi, but that's the only one of its kind in Wind Country. And I'm glad for that."

Then Iho lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning closer, his breath warm on her skin, "Ike's priests are really good with finances, which means I don't have nearly as much work there. Sawada is a surly bastard, but he's good with numbers and administration—far better than me in any case. He can have Sukoru and the rest of the country, I only care for Ike. But don't tell my father, or he'll send me another five years to the Jikaa, just in Sukoru this time…"

Sakura raised an eyebrow. "Would the Jikaa in Sukoru be that bad?"

Apparently it would. Iho's expression told a tale of horror. "You have no idea, Sakura-san. It's all numbers, and only numbers. Every transaction larger than one cart of goods is written down and archived. I tell you, you have never witnessed misery until you see that ugly block we call our administrative district."

She was halfway through grimacing alongside him, when the implications of his words struck her. She suddenly grew very silent, looking out over the pond and at the carved statue of a phoenix, her mind pacing through all the information about her parents' former trade agreements and what they had discussed at the dinner table before that night.

It was all fuzzy, and at times she wasn't even sure if her mother really sounded like she remembered her. She had tried this exercise of reconstruction often enough though, bothering her father right alongside it, before one night sneaking in his office and paging through the files. The books were detailed, all but one. And that book had several pages torn out, the ink on the pages coming before and after smudged by tears. Her father had been thorough, and she had never found anything else that would shed light on the issue. She could remember the smudged pages clearly though. Night after night she had pored over them, establishing a timeframe in which the trade must have happened.

She didn't know if her parents went with one cart of goods or two, or maybe just a bag full of spices, but she had to believe that it was enough to be recorded here. There just had to be someone who wrote it down in this place.

"Are you alright, Sakura-san?"

She blinked, a slow smile spreading on her face. "I think I'm better than alright."

"Oh?"

"Say, Iho-dono, could we visit that ugly block of administration?"

He was taken aback at first, then chuckled. "Is that your way of getting back at me for being unable to help your teammate? If so, you are a cruel woman, Sakura-san."

"It has nothing to do with Naruto," she said.

Iho raised an eyebrow. "That makes me feel better in one regard, but still leaves you as a cruel person indeed. After all, I just expounded on the horrors waiting there." He paused, holding eye-contact as if to search whether she was making an elaborate joke, then said, "It might make me more amenable were you to tell me the reason."

And that was what she'd actually have to do, because from what she knew, the administrative district lay in the bottom layers of Sukoru, far away from the palace. Lacking a good reason to go there without the Daimyo's approval—and she had the feeling any reason she fabricated would be lacking—wasn't a good step to take. Honesty, then, and if Iho really helped her, she'd actually really feel bad for using him.

"I want to investigate a murder, Iho-dono, and I believe that your archives might help me."

"A murder?" They were walking again now, paying no attention to the garden anymore. "That is a rather heavy topic," Iho murmured. "Who was murdered, then? And why do you think notes on trade transactions could help you?"

Sakura took a deep breath. She hadn't really talked with anybody about this issue before.

"My best friend's mother," she said, at last, finding the words to come off strangely from her tongue. She took Iho's surprised face as an invitation to go on, and then it came pouring out, the search, the uncertainty, the time in which it could have happened, the place, or at least what she thought the place was, and the unhelpfulness of the villagers in Suna, and the total denial of her _friend's_ father because he preferred living in a self-made delusion since that was easier, just that it wasn't, and it destroyed him too. How she wasn't sure she'd get anything done in Wind Country, but would try her best regardless, because she didn't think her best friend would ever find peace if there was no conclusion to this problem, either way.

And when she then stopped talking, out of breath, she was mortified that she had just opened up to a prince she was trying to squeeze for information, because no one, not even a civilian, would swallow such a flimsy lie.

 _Best friend my foot_. She had just opened to a total stranger, and if Danzō knew he would more than just lecture her. _Scratch Danzō_ , she thought, closing her eyes briefly, _Sasuke and Naruto would do that long before him. Oh shit, he probably just wanted to have sex with me, and I unloaded my whole life on him. And he's a prince in an enemy country, and if his friendliness is just an act then I gave him more ammunition against me than he could ever use._

Iho stood silent, regarding her with an expression she couldn't quite read, and she was already scanning her surroundings, wondering whether Taichi, if he heard all this from Iho, would use it in a Genjutsu against her.

"I can't say that I quite expected this, Sakura-san. But despite everything," he said, "that seemed the most honest thing you told me tonight, so I am inclined to believe you. As a side note, you should probably ask your superior not to task you with infiltration missions."

Then he laughed, took her arm again, and continued, quick-stepped, to an elevator. She followed, dazed, and two minutes, as well as three plateaus, later, they were in another garden, one not quite as beautiful and rather mundane, situated somewhere in the outskirts of the royal gardens.

"So you will help me?" Sakura asked.

"Seems that way, does it not?"

"What about the Daimyo's restrictions?"

"I am sure I can talk with him should he find out. Now, we cannot walk through Sukoru like this," he said, pointing at their expensive kimonos. "Luckily, I am quite prepared for adventures in the lower areas." He vanished behind a hedge that had been cut in the shape of two elephants touching their trunks, and returned with two bundles, handing her one. "Cloaks, black and gray. I hope they won't hide too much of your beauty."

"Convenient," she said, pulling open the package and slipping into the gray cloak, lifting up the hood to cover her hair.

"I have several stashed around the gardens. You never know when the drudgery in the palace becomes too much. Which is, really, just another reason to go back to Ike soon. Sukoru is beautiful in its own right, but it can be suffocating if you stay too long."

Covered, both took to the elevators, Iho leading her over and through a maze of bridges and tunnels. Sakura admitted to herself that on her own she would have lost her way already. Eventually, they had reached the bottom layer of Sukoru, without a guard even seeing them.

"You wouldn't make a bad shinobi, Iho-dono."

"Why, that sounds remarkably like a compliment." He led her onto the street, which was uneven and made of ocher-colored cobblestones. "But I don't think all the adrenaline would be good for me. I am a rather simple man, Sakura-san, and my life should reflect that."

And as Iho guided her through the lowest layer of Sukoru, Sakura, for the first time, had the feeling that she was walking in a city and not a gathering place for royalty and their retainers. A melon hawker was crying out that his prizes beat those of that crummy old Hirem by miles. And there were people smelling of Rakaji and rice wine stumbling from one doorframe to the next, searching for another tavern, another known face to talk with, another hour of drunken rambling to pass the time. And Iho expertly navigated through the throngs of partying people, who were not just lively, but also rather horny, as far as Sakura could tell, red veils hanging from so many houses and so many hips, and men and women laughing and kissing openly in the street, and she thought this city was remarkably untouched by war. As they walked past two men in a steamy embrace, one hand already wandering down the other's pants, she felt Iho's glance on her in a rather unsubtle way, but couldn't find the energy to care too much. Living in a place like this, who would turn out differently?

From time to time, the wind whistled loudly as it squeezed between the high buildings and plateaus, and twice they had to dodge, as a swell of water came raining down on them.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Kids," Iho said. "It doesn't matter how many regulations and guards you put in place, they will always find a way to slide down the aqueducts. I cannot blame them."

"Did it yourself?"

"As the future mayor of a prestigious city such as Ike, I choose not to answer that question."

Eventually though, the crowds on the streets thinned out, and they moved into calmer districts, where more guards patrolled. Iho lifted his hood, motioning for her to do the same.

"The guards will see us either way. It'd be a shame to hide your hair for much longer."

Sakura freed her hair, choosing not to reply. They walked in silence for a while, the sky slowly taking on a purple hue. When they came to a large building, ringed by guards, her heartbeat sped up. Was this it? Would she finally get answers? Then she saw that next to the large double-winged gate stood an old man talking with the guards, two boys and an empty cart beside them. She stopped, searching her memory from where she remembered them.

"Do you store deliveries in the same building as the records?" she asked.

"No, why do you ask?"

"I entered Sukoru behind that old man. He's peddling…camphor, I think? He told the guards at the gate a great deal about it. Finest camphor of the world, of course, and made by the best laurel trees." She imitated the old man's voice for the last part, eliciting a laugh from Iho.

"That is a remarkable memory you have, but no, this isn't the Archive. We should reach it in another ten minutes or so. Here we produce the Yellow Desert Bloom."

"You're crossbreeding flowers in there?"

"Not quite," Iho said, leading her past the guards and toward another street. "Have you ever heard of Hiea-bees?" Seeing her face, he continued, "I guess you wouldn't have. They are native to Wind Country. If we'd let them have their way, the blighters would destroy what little crops we have. That's what the Yellow Desert Bloom is for."

Now they were on a wide street, empty almost, that led directly up to a large, ugly, complex of buildings.

"It's not easy to produce, though. I'm not clear on all the ingredients, but camphor is one of them. There's quite a bit more to it, however, and from what I know, we get ingredients from all over the country."

Sakura looked over her shoulder, back at the empty cart and the old man. "Why here though? Wouldn't a central position like Shishi be more efficient?"

"Careful," Iho said, "you start to sound like a spy."

She startled at that, and he laughed, placing his hand on the small of her back. "Just joking, Sakura-san. It's a controlled substance. Far as I know, there was an incident a few decades ago. A farmer killed himself because he wasn't careful enough while applying the stuff. After that, father ordered the supply to be strictly regulated. I don't know about the other schools, but the Jikaa in Ike offers mandatory courses for the farmers of the region, to be taken once a year. No uncertified farmer is likely to get his hands on that stuff."

Then, making a grimace, he said, "But enough of the boring lectures, we're here, Sakura-san. Feast your eyes on the horror that is the Archive."

* * *

They said that even without their eyes Uchiha were feared shinobi. Machines bred for warfare, whose bloodline enhanced their danger, certainly, but was by far not the only reason to be wary of them. Uchiha were, in short, more than just their Sharingan.

This was the story Nori, the Uchiha scholar, had told Sasuke and the other clan children whenever a wounded Uchiha came back to the clan having lost his sight on a mission, which had happened far more often than one might imagine. The fame of the Sharingan posed at once a deterrent for the weak and an invitation for the brave. Enter into a fight with an Uchiha, and somewhere along the lines there will be an attempt to deny them their bloodline. That is how his clan had always been fought.

Back then Sasuke hadn't understood the point of the lectures. Shinobi too weak to retain their bloodline had, even as a child, never earned his sympathy. And in a sense he had always felt that they were worse even than those Uchiha who failed to manifested their Sharingan. Because they had received the power that slumbered in their blood, and they had squandered it.

Sasuke looked into the mirror hanging above the small wooden table of the chamber. His hair was longer than two months ago. His lips formed a flat line. And above his angular cheekbones, black, flinty eyes stared back. He wondered what his younger self would think of him being unable to turn black into red. In the end, all of the lectures he now remembered on the topic left him with a vague sense of untruth.

He was a machine bred for war, yes, but the loss of his Sharingan left him far beneath his old form. He coped, heightened his other skills, still stood head and shoulders above other shinobi. But when all was said and done, he still hadn't been able to defend his team like that. And he knew, which made it all the harder to accept, that if his Sharingan had worked during the ambush, he would have slaughtered every single rebel coming after them. That Naruto would still be with them, because the desert would be strewn with corpses.

Bracing against the table, Sasuke leaned in closer toward the mirror. For a year now he had studied the eye as much as a single person could study it. For longer than that he had fine-tuned his control to a degree not even Tsunade could have anticipated when she offered her original diagnosis. And he had waited to implement the plan of recovery he had developed, because the invasion and all the problems with Danzō had made him hesitant. Foolishly, he had thought that even without his eyes he would be strong enough to face the challenges ahead. That there was some leeway for him to become surer of his control being sufficient, and his theory being sound.

The creaking of wood made him glance down, and he eased up on his grip on the table, before looking back at his reflection.

He had no leeway anymore. Hadn't had it in the first place, and Naruto was paying the price for his miscalculation. Not much longer now, and the search for Naruto would start. When that happened, he had to be ready, Sasuke told himself.

Today he would awaken his clan's legacy for the second time, and he wasted no time on the possibility of failure. Because, in the end, there was no force that did not bend before an Uchiha's will, no amount of caution that trumped the urgency of saving Naruto.

For a second, as he called up the familiar feeling of his bloodline, he saw both eyes in the mirror turn red. Then the pain set it, a fierce stabbing behind the eyeballs, and he shut his eyes immediately, biting down on his scream. The sensation changed to a burning heat wave that slammed against his mind in pulses, his head feeling as if he wore a crown of scalding metal. Tears welled up in his eyes, as he briefly tried to open them by force of will. The world was a blurry red.

Sasuke desperately grasped for clarity, forging through the haze of pain. He had known how the corrosive chakra felt since the day of his diagnosis. He wouldn't allow himself to be overwhelmed now. Tasting blood on his lips, he still bit down harder, pushing the scream back down his throat, as his hands cramped into a seal, all of him holding on to the certainty that his theory was sound.

Cold chakra rose up toward Kyūmon, the Gate of Healing, and he let it circle the gate rather than open it, finding, one by one, the paths that led to his eyes. In floods the chakra surged through the corroded parts, easing the pain.

 _One more_ , he thought, jaw hurting from keeping it locked tight, as his hands twitched into another seal. A second wave of chakra rushed past Kyūmon. It layered itself over the first, soon regenerating the damage. The world cleared up, at last. And there was a moment of pure elation as he looked into the mirror and found black windmills churning in red fields.

He had done it. Finally, he had—

His concentration slipped. He lost control of the easing chakra. The pain was back, hot and white stabs in his brain, and buckling under the strain he sank to his knees, in a last effort managing to conjure up the right balance again, then quickly shutting off his bloodline, and for minutes afterward lying on the cold stone floor, face stretched in fury, breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

* * *

The early morning sun was leaving a shaft of light in the chamber. Sasuke, who hadn't been able to sleep after his failure, still sat on the bed as he had done for the last few hours, looking straight at the left leg of the table. When the door then opened, Sakura returning from her meeting with Iho, he got up as if nothing had happened, schooling his features into a mask of indifference.

"I'm back." The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Sakura took the golden clips out of her hair, carefully putting them in a small container.

"I can see that," Sasuke said, waiting for her to turn around, then signing – _Found anything?_

"No need to be so sour. It's a beautiful morning." – _Nothing about Naruto. Do you really think they're spying on us?_

"I see nothing beautiful about it." – _Not risking it. Why so late?_

"That's because you weren't outside yet, silly. Of course it isn't beautiful inside."

She gave him a short pause signal, then quickly unraveled all the fastenings of her kimono, letting it fall in a heap around her feet. Sasuke's eyes followed her as she went over to the dresser in the corner, where she had stashed her slacks and uniform. When she came back fully-dressed, she picked up the kimono, folding it neatly and putting it next to the container with the golden clasps.

"Though I do think their birds sound better than ours in the morning," she said. _–Iho showed me Sukoru's Archive._

"Birds?" Flat, monotone. – _And?_

"Animals with wings, great singers, you know that stuff, Sasuke." – _They had an entry on my mother's death._

"You want to spar right here?" – _Then this place isn't completely useless?_

"Come off it, you grouch. Why do you always have to argue and fight?" – _Depends. Minimal information. A concrete date; ANBU involvement; name of the last surviving eyewitness._

For a quarter of a second, Sasuke floundered in how to continue the meaningless side-conversation. Then, almost struggling, he said, "You made it a competition about birds." – _Anything else?_

Sakura shot him a triumphant grin, letting herself fall back on the bed beside him. "I guess I did. Maybe it's just that I'm more used to ours? They're certainly exotic here." – _Iho wants to sleep with me. He's definitely not shy._

Stone-faced, Sasuke said, "I dislike birds, doesn't matter where." – _You knew that already. Thoughts on the others?_

"I'm sure you don't actually dislike them." – _Sawada seems the most serious and adult of them._

Sasuke put conviction into his next glare. "I do." – _He doesn't trust us, and he hates Konoha._

"Why?" – _Not trusting shinobi seems sensible. But I don't like him either._

"Because they wake me up." – _He could become a problem._

Sakura goggled at him. "And that's what you hate about them?" – _Seriously, Sasuke. You're up before they start singing. That's such a bullshit argument._

Sasuke nodded forcefully, saying "It is," just as someone knocked at the door.

They looked at each other, then Sasuke moved to open it, finding Taichi standing on the other side. Sasuke forcefully suppressed his initial instinct to reach for a weapon, moving aside so Taichi could enter, which he did, nodding in greeting at Sakura.

"Can we help you?" Sakura said. To an outsider her voice might have sounded normal, but Sasuke recognized the cadence as definitely being on edge.

Taichi looked relaxed. "You already did, Sakura-san. I should be angry that you violated the Daimyo's order of staying in the palace, but as the prince foolishly took no escort, having you accompany him proved to be a blessing in disguise. More so since by now I believe you aren't here to kill anyone of the royal family."

Neither Sasuke nor Sakura disputed that, purely for self-serving reasons.

"So you spied on us," Sakura said.

"Have you expected any different?"

"No," Sasuke said.

"Good. That means you're not stupid." Taichi smiled at them. "I'm actually here to prepare you. The Daimyo has exchanged a few words with your commander. The missive to return arrived an hour ago via messenger hawk." He lobbed a scroll at them. "There will be a last dinner tonight, and I'm afraid you'll hear some bad news, then. And since you behaved—don't look at me like that, Uchiha, I don't mean it in a bad way—I thought I might give you the gist of it already, so you're not completely taken by surprise."

He scratched his chin. "No way around it. We found out that the rebels rotate their camp every once in a while, but there's no indication how often, from which point to which, or even how many camps there are. Even had we found traces of your teammate, we wouldn't have been able to follow them."

"So we wasted our time," Sasuke said, voice frigid.

"You spent it with the Daimyo to answer important questions for the betterment of the country," Taichi said, words threaded with a light rebuke. "Unfortunately that's not all. Normally I wouldn't tell you this, but as it pertains to the route back to Suna, you might be better off knowing." He quieted for a moment, then sighed. "While searching the region, there have been some strange rumors reaching my men, of a pair in black cloaks with red clouds. I'm pretty sure you don't know what this means, but—"

"Akatsuki," Sasuke said, eyes widening by a fraction. "They're in Wind Country?"

"You know them?" Taichi asked. "Now that I didn't expect."

"We know of them, yes," Sakura said.

The three looked at each other in silence. Then Taichi said, "I won't pry how you learned of them, or why Konoha tells Chūnin about those guys, but I hope you know enough to run as fast as you can should you meet them."

They said nothing.

Seeing that he wouldn't get much more out of them, Taichi clapped his hand once. "Well, that's all I came to say. I'll see you at the dinner, but in case we won't be speaking anymore, good luck. You're not half bad for a bunch of tree-hugging kids."

Then he left them, and Sakura immediately picked up Danzō's missive, eyes flying over the chicken scrawl.

"We're to return by the end of the week," she said.

"What about Naruto?"

Sakura shook her head, handing him the scroll. "No detours. He made it an explicit order."

Eying the chicken scrawl, Sasuke said, "He isn't subtle…"

Both stood in awkward silence, because the message contained, among other things, a list of consequences that would await them were they to disobey the order to return.

"Naruto wouldn't go," Sasuke said eventually. "He would screw the consequences and comb the desert until he found us."

"I know," Sakura said. "But we've no information on where he is, and we can't just ignore a direct order." – _We will find him_.

Sasuke looked at her. – _How?_

She smiled back. – _One grain at a time._

"…I suppose that's right," Sasuke said. "Once we're back, we'll request a widespread search."

"No need to sound so defeated," Sakura said. "Our scouts aren't half bad." – _We'll start the moment they let us leave this place. I've enough of royalty to last me a lifetime._

Sasuke was in agreement, and found that Sakura's uncomfortable expression was rather appropriate, given the situation. Two unsanctioned rescue missions in just as many years really spoke volumes. Then again, being a shinobi wasn't worth anything without their team complete anyway.

* * *

 **AN:** Okay, so that's it for this chapter. Sakura found a clue regarding her mother, Kakashi is a helpless drunk but has some interesting ideas, Sasuke is trying to reclaim the title "machine of war", and Naruto and Temari are getting along, somewhat. Things are progressing, I'd say. (Mostly because some cloaked hoodlums are also getting involved now.) I know that to some the pace appears slow, but it's needed to set everything up. Next chapter will move along a bit quicker. But despite everything, it remains to be said that this is a story heavily focused on character interaction.

Yes, there will be action and fighting, clashes with bloods and gore, emptied bowels and screaming. I had those moments in Blood Wings, I'll have them here. But to me, how characters deal with each other and how their lives entwine is the real meat of the story. To that end I take my time with the characters, trying to develop them while also trying to keep things interesting.

On a side note, if the sexual implications bother you, I'm sorry. Right now Team Seven is hovering around fifteen age-wise. To some that might seem early when measured by our modern standard, but it's definitely inside the acceptable for a story set in a samurai/shinobi society.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Quick question: What's your favorite moment/scene in this chapter? It's always interesting to know that as an author. Makes it easier to replicate good parts and see what works.


	8. Crossed V

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Crossed – V**

* * *

" _I have discovered that all human evil comes from this: man's being unable to sit still in a room."_

* * *

Looking at Temari, Naruto thought it was an extraordinary stroke of luck having her, Gaara's sister of all people, in the group that had kidnapped him. She alone seemed to be the key to calming down Ren. And without her intervention, Naruto was sure he would have never held out as long as he did.

While Temari had been away, the full brunt of Ren's attention brought Naruto as close to the edge of submitting to the fox as he had ever dreamed of, even in his nightmares. Each shard of control that splintered off was that much worse, because he needed it, needed to reassure himself that keeping the Kyuubi at bay was possible; that he could fulfill the very first mission he had ever received, right at birth; that in the end, the Fourth's trust wasn't misplaced, couldn't be misplaced, as Jiji had often put it, because Uzumaki Naruto didn't give up. He may falter, but he would never let it be cut, that one iron thread tethering his will to the impossible.

Well, he'd done a lot of faltering in the last weeks, and without his absolute faith in Sasuke and Sakura finding him eventually, and without Temari, who had made the hour-long beatings cease, he might actually have taken the axe to that iron thread. He might have given in at last to the temptation of releasing whatever of the Kyuubi's chakra could make it through the restriction seals. A part of him would have liked to see everything around him turn to ash. That much was undeniable. And should he ever get the chance to do so without the Kyuubi he would take it.

Though maybe he'd knock out Temari first, taking her out of the equation. Being at the same time thankful for her help and resentful for having been captured was a strange feeling at any rate. And seeing her now sit cross-legged before him, a wooden bowl clenched between her thighs, hands working in a mesmerizing rhythm as she ground something with a pestle, he still couldn't help wonder whether she was playing him. Time had made him jaded enough to recognize that this could all be an act, that Ren might know about everything, and that, at every moment, the comfort she lulled him into could prove his undoing.

He really hoped, maybe naively so, that it wasn't that though, because their original meeting notwithstanding he actually liked her. And it was the duality of his feelings toward Temari that always made the process of thinking about how to deal with her a confusing exercise.

The minutes stretched, both silent, and Naruto kept observing her, letting his mind wander, cataloging what he knew of the rebels beyond the woman in front of him. They rotated their camps every so often—the reason for that was unknown to him. He assumed it had strategic advantages in keeping Konoha guessing and staying mobile, invalidating scouting information only a week or two after they've been discovered. If there was a larger plan at work, he couldn't tell. The rebels, it seemed, were sent out on missions now and then. Most of that information came from his ride on the back of the bulging shinobi he lovingly called Fatso, the one that had broken his ribs to test his _bloodline_. Bastard.

Naruto had never heard much about clashes between Konoha's scouts and Suna's rebels though, so he wondered what kind of missions they ran. Ambushing the escort of a high-standing government official couldn't happen every week or so. Then again, working against a powerhouse like Konoha probably gave people a lot to do.

Curiously enough, they also rotated men. During the two times they had changed their location now, Naruto had shortly seen the outside of the tent. They would kick him awake and push him out into the center of the camp. There they'd bind him to a pole for newcomers to gawk at. Lovely job, being an exhibit. The dangerous but caught Konoha-nin. De-fanged if you will. They would laugh, cracking cute one-liners to impress each other. A few would throw stones; others were content with sand or spitting in his face. When the stones hit Naruto, blood caressing his temples, he always thought that were was nothing more to it but endure. Their method of humiliating him was a far cry away from whatever Ren dished out. _Let them throw sand_ , he thought then, _as long as that guy stays away from me_. He had a great memory for faces, after all. And when the day came that he'd stand across them, unbound, they would remember all those little insults and wish they had kept away from him. Just as Ren would eventually wish to have never crossed paths.

In the quiet introspective moments, which he admittedly had rather more often than he'd like, he thought that he finally understood Sasuke. Not just the Sasuke he knew now, but also the one before that, the vengeful Uchiha consumed by a lust for his brother's death so strong, nothing else had a place in his world. That was, until Kakashi-sensei forcefully created that place and shoved Naruto and Sakura inside. Revenge, it turned out, was one hell of a motivator to get you through the day.

Temari added dried leaves to the bowl, looked up, eyes flashing mysteriously, then refocused on her work, going back to grinding that pestle.

How she calmed Ren he could only speculate at, but he had a hunch. When she had been away those two weeks, he had never known who was worse, Ren or the Kyuubi. Bastard Biju of the first order, the fox took its sweet time to heal the damage, keeping him alive but also fully cognizant of the pain: the slashing, stabbing, burning, and God knows what more. He lost count after the first twenty-four hours.

By the second day he wondered if there hadn't been any other way to escape back then, if giving up himself had really been the only option. The Kyuubi continued healing as slowly as it could.

Then came the third day, the worst by far, and Naruto's respect for Kakashi's performance in Orochimaru's dungeon soared. Ren actually managed to make him want to talk. Naruto's lips were bitten bloody at midday; his tongue might have gone next, since even if he wanted to talk, his stubborn streak kept him from it somehow.

So he didn't talk, enduring the beatings—Temari was gone for maybe sixty hours by then—and Ren was working himself into a frenzy. There wasn't much of Naruto's earlier bravado left, aside from a few token efforts. But he still didn't talk. No, ultimately, defeat came from someplace else.

Three days, give or take. After seventy-two hours, a bit more perhaps, Naruto caved, giving in to the pain. The fists kept raining; his head lolled from side to side. A treacherous thought crossed his mind. Just once. A stray morsel flying through the shaken expanse of his mind.

It might as well have flashed like a dying star.

When Ren left him alone that night, Naruto succumbed. The thought returned, and he articulated it into a mental question, almost a plea. He knew it was the worst way to go. Nothing good could come from it. And he did it nonetheless, because a thundering howl of pain shot from his head to his ankles and back at every second, and his endurance found its end at last.

The reply to his plea came with the piercing quality of a lance, thrusting right through the haze of pain, shredding it to pieces.

The Kyuubi delivered. There was no meeting this time, nothing fancy as that. But with each shred of red chakra begged, not freely given, a fact that made all the difference, Naruto could practically feel the Biju's smugness grow as he healed up.

They didn't have to meet each other. Naruto knew well without seeing the fox who won.

To what degree though, only the next days unveiled. Making a deal with the devil had its consequences—he had always known that—but again, the attack came from a direction he didn't anticipate.

This time it _was_ Ren. He found Naruto completely healed the next morning, creating the hypothesis about a healing bloodline. The periods of beatings grew longer, the viciousness increased, and after barely another day, Naruto broke his renewed vow to never ask the Kyuubi for its help again.

It happened again. And a third, a fourth, a fifth time. Naruto begged; the Kyuubi gave; Ren tortured. Then the cycle began anew, each time eclipsing the one that came before in violence.

Eventually Temari had returned, and had he not been bound back then, he would have kissed her feet from toe to toe, while also thinking of smashing her head in for bringing him to this place.

In the present, Temari's voice broke him out of his thoughts. He looked at her through the mattress of filthy blond hair hanging in his face that now reached past his shoulders. She stood before him, looking expectantly, a bowl of the same old slurry in her hands

"Sorry," Naruto said, "mind's been wandering." There was a faint trace of impatience in her eyes, and he thought it best not to keep the food lady waiting.

She took the spoon, shoveling a large glob into his obediently opened mouth in what was by now established routine. The slurry met his palate, sloshing around. A sudden explosion of flavor expanded into every corner of his mouth.

Still slurry, of course, but what kind of slurry, now that made all the difference.

Temari wore an utterly satisfied smirk, assured in her absolute superiority. His reaction must have been pretty obvious, too, because her grin only widened as time went by.

He kept his mouth shut, before he insulted her again on accident. This food was too precious to meet the ground. Rather he nodded at the bowl, and radiating smugness Temari continued to feed him until nothing remained.

"That," he said as he gulped down the last bits and licked his lips, "was the best food I've eaten since coming to this place."

Temari said, "You didn't exactly come here…"

"Not the camp," he replied, quite honest. "The country."

Her stare turned flinty. "If all you do is mock it, then I shouldn't have bothered. The food in Suna is better than any seasoning I can make…"

Seeing the possibility of getting another meal like that abscond toward regions unknown, he said, "Cool it, Temari, I wasn't knocking your food! It was good, I mean it." She still didn't look convinced, so he kept talking. "Rations in Suna were shit, really. And I've had nothing but not-cooked-by-you stuff since coming here. You better believe that was the tastiest fucking meal I had in weeks."

It worked. The satisfied glint returned to her eyes, and Naruto's thumping heart stopped beating so loudly. Crisis averted, he calmed. "What did you do? Must be some kind of desert witchcraft. There's no way a few dried leaves can make that kind of difference."

She pulled a bag from her belt and held it under his nose, and Naruto took a sniff, then recoiled at the fierce itching sensation crawling up the insides of his nose. If he were an Aburame and spice bugs were a thing, this would exactly feel like them making use of their host. "Holy… that's, uh, spicy?"

Temari pulled taut the string of the bag, closing it. "Siem leaves, grown in Hajim. You need the other herbs I used to mediate the—" She stopped abruptly. "Why am I telling you this?"

"Because I asked?"

She gave him a flat look. "You eat, I question. That was the deal."

"Right. And being interested in how you fabricated that miracle of culinary engineering is bad how?"

Her expression willing him to understand, Temari told him in clear words that it would set a bad precedent for later interactions. At his consequent laugh, she threatened the return of the old slurry.

"There's nothing wrong with talking," he began, more carefully. "What am I going to do, write a book about you?"

"You could report whatever I tell you."

"If I actually make it out of this place alive I'll probably have other worries than your cooking skills. No disrespect intended. They _are_ worthy of talking about, but I'd probably wait until I see Chōji or something. He can appreciate it much more."

"Chōji?"

Naruto paused. He hadn't planned on naming any other people than his teammates and Gaara. Talking about Chōji had been his first real slip in her company and he quickly continued talking, hoping to gloss over it while cursing and celebrating the mentality-shifting experience of eating good food. "A friend," he said. "But I'm serious. Chances are that we're going to continue this for a while. Would it be so bad to talk about some superficial stuff for once?"

"I'm here to get information on my brother, nothing more."

"And you will get them, I promise," he said, nodding, "but isn't there another topic, something? Gaara's the only thing I've talked about for weeks now. It's maddening."

Giving in to a random urge, Naruto made a face at her.

She looked like she'd punch him again, then sighed, plopping back onto the sand, resting her chin in her palm. "Suppose I agree. What do you want to talk about? And I'm warning you—anything war related and this is over."

"Fair warning," he said. "I'll try to keep my spy-nature in check. So…"

"So?"

"Well, who are you?"

Temari scowled at him. "You know who I am. Stop playing games."

"I know that you're Gaara's sister. I know that you can pimp this sludge into something actually edible." He paused for a moment, then added, "I also know that you're not a virgin anymore."

She was up in a flash, growling into his ear, "Careful, Naruto, you're talking about things you know nothing about."

"Did I lie?"

"If all you do is give me crap then I'm leaving. I've better things to do than listen to your shit."

He wanted to say 'Uh-huh, like getting ploughed by the commander' but controlled himself. She didn't look like she was joking. "Sorry," he said trying to look contrite. "Just making conversation."

"You suck at small talk."

An objective and truthful statement as far as he could tell.

"I wasn't trying to make small talk."

She glared at him. "Ask something different, then. Something not about me. I won't give ammunition to a tree-hugger."

"That almost sounds as if you have faith in my escape. I'm…well, moved doesn't really fit. Honored maybe?"

Her growl became louder. Just a bit more and she'd be easy to mistake for a lioness. Naruto steered clear of the danger zone just before that could happen though. "Easy. Um…okay, something not about you, right? I can do that. Though you are fairly interesting. Actually, I think I've got something!"

"Go on," she said, arms crossed in front of her chest, a warning glint in her eyes.

"Now," Naruto began, "hear me out, please. Next one is an observation in general—not about you, I promise—so don't kill me, don't withhold the food, and don't leave, please?" She didn't respond and he continued, "What's up with Suna women?"

Temari turned to leave.

"No! Wait! Let me finish, damn it." She paused at the tent flap and he said, "I don't mean it like that. I just…it seems weird to talk about this, but I've wondered since I arrived in Suna…aren't Suna women jealous of all the prostitutes?"

Naruto heard himself speak and if he weren't bound he would slap himself silly for how he structured his question. To his surprise, by the time he had finished, Temari was sitting again.

"Why should they be?"

"Well, there are so many, right? Much more than I've ever seen in Konoha or Fire Country. And they're so open with it. I've noticed it in Suna, red everywhere, and one of my teammates had a bit of inside information. I just find it weird that they aren't, well, reviled I'd say. At least by other women. It's more like they're…honored?"

Temari tilted her head. "Why should they be reviled? Nothing they do is wrong if they do it out of their own will."

"But shouldn't the wives be more angry?"

Temari hummed a low tone. "Suppose a husband cheats on his wife with a prostitute, is that really the prostitute's fault, then? I don't see the logic in that."

"I've witnessed a few wives creating scenes and making trouble back in Konoha."

"That's ridiculous," Temari said, shaking her head. "If the husband is caught cheating it's clear who's at fault. I know no woman in this country who'd blame a prostitute for that."

"Uh-huh."

Temari raised an eyebrow. "You've been to Wind Country how long now?"

"Almost a year? Time's not my strength right now."

She ignored the swipe and continued, "You should've noticed that the desert isn't the nicest of places."

"You can say that again."

"There's no water, people go hungry all the time, and it's much easier to die out in the desert than in your green forests. It's…easy, I guess, to feel that life's against you. There's not much merriment to go around."

"So…?"

She looked at him as if he were a dense child. "So we take pleasure from wherever we can, and we honor those that bring a bit of light into our lives. Priests, dancers, cooks, musicians…They all are revered here. Physical pleasure is just one possibility of many—certainly a strong one though. It's not love, but often it doesn't need to be. Why should someone be angry at a woman who brings solace to so many, when it's not even her fault to begin with when a man cheats?" She paused. "Same goes for the men, by the way."

"The men?"

"Of course. Or did you think brothels are only catering to guys? For every establishment of that kind you have at least another one that serves the other side. Needs go both ways, you know?"

"Oh? That's pretty detailed knowledge. You've been to many such establishments, then?"

She shot him a look, half-amused, half-warning, then rose. "That's none of your business," she said, stretching, before collecting the empty bowl and the spoon. "It's getting late. I'll try to make it tomorrow."

"Are you leaving because I asked?"

She laughed. "You're not that important, Naruto."

And as Naruto watched her go, he wondered about that strange bit of information he had just received. A pleasure-oriented society underneath that deadly pile of hot sand she called her country.

He could buy into that.

* * *

Half a day's travel away from the point that split Fang Country into north and south, the makeshift group of Iwa-nin halted in front of the large stretch of forest separating them from the entrance to Wind Country.

It was raining. Blood that was, and Rōshi pinned his gaze on the lump of flesh that had been a talking shinobi just moments ago. Slowly the ringing from the explosion subsided, and Rōshi forced himself to take a deep breath when he noticed his teeth grinding one another into dust.

He had been wondering why there had been no resistance at all, when they, hidden as a merchant caravan, traveled through the north of Fang Country, closing in on their target with each passing day. That Konoha would have something up their sleeve had been a given. This, though, came unexpected.

A few paces to his left, standing amid the other Iwa-nin Ōnoki had sent them as support, Daichi stared at the forest with naked fear entering his eyes. _The first time that brat is too shocked to speak_ , Rōshi thought, shaking his head minutely. But if this hadn't been a situation where the boy was overcome by horror, he would have been far more worried. That at least, if nothing else, might be a good thing. He'd been far too happy about marching into a warzone, and Rōshi had begun worrying that this brashness would make him abandon caution the moment he saw an enemy. It had been ages since Rōshi last felt the thin veil of anxiety that cloaked you when you feared for someone else's life.

His eyes returned to the forest before them. There existed an enemy now, though it was an intangible, inanimate one; and that foe had just put the fear of God into Daichi. In time that fear would be overcome, but for now it kept the boy alive, which, in the end, was all he could ask for.

Rōshi stepped to the others. "There's no way but through. If they think that's all it takes to stop us, we'll have to prove them wrong, eh, boys?"

Some murmured a 'yeah' into the blowing wind; others kept staring at the forest as if it was transforming into a deadly beast before their eyes, sallying out to swallow them whole. Daichi belonged to the latter category.

"Listen up." All eyes fell on Rōshi. "You know what I contain, so stop worrying. There's no amount of explosives on this earth that can kill me. I'll scout our path. You keep behind me at all times, and nothing will happen. Understood?"

Grim nods all around.

Rōshi started for the forest, circulating his Bijū's chakra through his body. That the third Hokage, or one of his advisors, would think of preparing against an Iwa attack on Suna had been a given. Nevertheless, Rōshi wondered what kind of resources it took to transform an entire stretch of a country into a veritable death zone. No surprise that there hadn't been any civilians even close to the forest.

Ahead there would wait nothing but traps and exploding tags on them, and before the day was out, Rōshi knew, he would probably have lost another member of his group.

* * *

Once more, Sakura and Sasuke sat at the Daimyo's table, a lavish feast spread out before them. Unlike before though, they were in a large hall this evening, the event more formal in nature. They were waited upon, and contrary to their first dinner, Sakura saw the guards who had been mere shadows before stand in full view, right next to the pillars and braziers scattered throughout the hall.

While surveying and assessing their threat level, Sakura sliced the roasted piece of pheasant on her golden plate, dipping it into the spiced up honey sauce. Invitations to dinner had come from Iho and Yui before, and Sakura had no doubts that this last, forced occasion was Sawada's work. Maybe he didn't want to deal with them in an informal setting any longer, and his father, weary of fighting, had given in.

Her teeth broke through the brown crust, the taste of coriander and the hint of mint a pleasant surprise. Avoiding further stressing the bonds between the family members was a good principle, really, but this utterly awkward dinner wouldn't help matters, no matter how much the Daimyo wished it to.

Since their arrival she'd had ample opportunity to observe the workings of this family, even with Taichi's restrictions and constant supervision. And though still wondering about the openness showed to her at times, Sakura understood one thing above all else: This family was broken.

The continuous tension between the eldest and youngest brother had reached its peak during the last weeks; Sawada treated Iho with nothing more than contempt, disdain lacing every syllable whenever they spoke. Yui had insulated herself from anyone but Sakura. The two had shared a few more meetings, and in each and every one of them, Sakura's inexplicable feeling of unease grew.

Likewise, the Daimyo, who had projected wisdom and strength at first, turned out to be an old man with too many burdens to shoulder, particularly that of keeping his family united while also keeping a semblance of peace in his country. Both tasks at which he failed. He was a nice man though, maybe too nice. Or at least he was wise enough to not show his scorn for Konoha openly, if he harbored any.

Sakura lifted a cup of wine to her lips. Taichi, who sat beside the Daimyo, had caught her staring, and now his eyes drilled into hers in response. She was the first to look away—no need to cause trouble so close to their departure.

Next to her sat Yui. Today she was followed by a personal cupbearer Sakura had seen a few times in the last weeks. She was a beautiful woman with a black braid reaching down to her ankles, who was approaching Yui for the sixth time this evening. When she knelt on the small, yellow cushion beside her mistress to refill the cup, the length of the braid became even more apparent. Like a snake it coiled at her feet, the jade ornament at the end of her braid meeting the ground with a soft clinking sound.

Yui was out to get drunk, and Sakura couldn't fault her. The ominous silence at the table as everyone ate their dinner; the tension you could almost grasp with your hands; the glares, scowls, and frowns going around…

Sakura refocused on her food after Sasuke tapped her leg once under the table. Tomorrow, away from any controlling influences, they'd be able to search for Naruto. How? She had no idea. But anything was better than doing nothing at this point.

 _We're coming for you, Naruto. Hold out._

As Yui's cupbearer approached again, the Daimyo shot his daughter a glare, which was a rarity. Usually his attention was solely reserved for his two sons, through all the fault of their own.

The glare eased into a worried frown. "What is the matter, Yui? You seem intent on falling prey to vice tonight."

Not the nicest words ever spoken, but Sakura was glad that at least someone _was_ speaking now. With all that silence going around, the Daimyo could have whispered and the eunuchs in the eastern wing of the palace would have heard it.

Yui shrugged nonchalantly, face flushed. "I just feel like it, father, that is all. From time to time indulgence can be a blessing, would you not agree?"

"That is not how a daughter of this house be—"

Screeching drowned out the Daimyo's voice. Knives hurtled at him, each spinning in perfect unison, pushed by a gale of wind coming in sharp behind them. Murder in his eyes, Taichi was already on his feet in front of his master.

On instinct, Sakura jumped away from the table as more knives knocked over the goblets and bowls on top. Too late did she realize that more than a few shot at Iho, but Sasuke had already grabbed the youngest son by the scruff of his robe, pulling him back.

They joined Sakura, whose eyes went rapidly from left to right to top and back. The attackers hung at the pillars or stood by them, all wearing the uniform of the royal shinobi guard. Taichi snarled at them as he deflected their projectiles with a frightening accuracy, not one knife making it close to the Daimyo.

Yui was staring wide-eyed at what happened, having crawled back with her cupbearer, who tried her best to calm the princess. Sawada, Sakura finally realized, was the only one not looking surprised. He calmly stood up, staring at his father, the hail of knives continuing.

"Sawada!" the Daimyo shouted. "Stop this madness!"

There were traces of actual regret in Sawada's expression, which quickly vanished though. "I did not wish for this, but you left me little choice, father. It is time for our country to take back its pride."

 _Why now?_ Sakura thought, as Sawada shot at a glare at Iho, who was taking cover behind Sasuke and Sakura.

Rage creeping over his face, Taichi growled, "You would kill your own father over this?"

"I knew of your presence, so I had no worries that he would die. Stand down, Taichi, and my men will stop their assault." His next words were for his father: "There is nothing you can do. Rescind your title and all this ends. I fully intend to let you live out your life in the palace. Unburden yourself, father, and spend the remainder of your time in peace, before taking that last journey to Odaya's palace."

Sawada raised his hand; the knives stopped coming. The room was empty of noise.

Then the Daimyo spoke. "Unburden myself?" A cracked laugh. "It seems I raised a fool. You think the people will follow you if you take my title by force?"

"Your guards follow me, do they not?"

"Sawada," Yui spoke from beside her cupbearer, gripping the woman's arm tightly. "Please. It doesn't have to be like this…I—"

"Enough!" Taichi's shout was laced with enough killing intent that, for a second, Sakura froze. God, she hadn't felt that much since their fight against Kabuto. Taichi tightened his grip around the kunai in his hand, staring right up at the attackers clinging to the pillars. "You traitors know me well after all these years. You should know that I will keep my promises. Come down, put away your weapons, and I'll make sure your death is painless. Stay up there, and I will come for your when your inevitable loss is at hand."

They didn't move.

"Choose!" Taichi thundered. When nothing happened he said, "Konoha, I count on your support," his tightly controlled chakra flooding the room in waves. "Honor the treaty."

 _His chakra is so dense,_ Sakura thought, holding the knife she had used to eat in front of her, oil clinging to the blade still.

* * *

Sasuke needed no Sharingan to see that everyone had gone to hell. The old Daimyo was staring at his oldest son as though all of this was just a nightmare, soon to end. Problem was, it wouldn't, and Sasuke knew that Sakura and he had to make a choice now. Glancing at her, he saw a reflection of his own thought process—she had come to the same conclusion then, and really, he had expected nothing else.

"I'll keep him alive," Sakura said, nodding at Iho, who sat dazed on the floor beside her.

Sasuke knew he needed help for this one. "You remember—"

"Just go already," she said, a strange smile on her face. She was remarkably calm, and when she positioned herself defensively before Iho, Sasuke set off.

He rushed the first enemy in sight, two leaps away, and the fight in the hall resumed as Konoha made its decision. Most shinobi were moving in on Taichi; some stayed back to get a hold of Sasuke; two ran past him at Sakura. He didn't stop them, concentrating fully on the man in front of him. Metal clashed; pained cries rang out as the first few fell victim to Taichi's fists.

The ugly creak of bones rang in Sasuke's ears, but he had no time to worry anymore. Body flowing in a violent rhythm, he jabbed at an eye, following with a hook that stopped midway and transitioned into him sliding his leg behind his opponent's feet, pulling them away, then shifting out of range when a row of punches came to his left from a second shinobi.

He pushed the unbalanced man before him forward against the table they had eaten at. Plates and cutlery rattled as the shinobi fell backwards, then the noise cut off abruptly. Uncaring, Sasuke reached for the first utensil he found, drilling the spoon into the left eye, while leaning forward and avoiding the blade that sliced the air above him. The man under him opened his mouth in a scream. Only after a few seconds did the sound reach Sasuke though. It gained in volume, rushing all of a sudden through his ears as if he was listening for the first time. The cries of agony around him returned, as did the roar of flying metal, buzzing when propelled by wind, and then came Sakura's voice.

"—Sasuke!"

He jerked away from his screaming victim, rolling sideways over the table, feeling an intense but only momentary shame at having been caught in a Genjutsu, out of which Sakura had broken him.

Above, a blade was on direct course to his face, only a few inches separating them. Then a spike of earth broke through the table at his side, jagged and sharp, drilling into the arm that held the sword.

Sasuke lurched up, lashing out against the speared arm. The sword fell to the ground, clattering. One squat later, Sasuke had a weapon and his opponent lacked his head. He nodded briefly in thanks at Sakura, who was kneeling on the floor, a corpse and Iho beside her.

Taichi was circled by dead shinobi, most of his attackers resorting to distance, hurling shuriken and knives at him. As Sasuke ran at his next opponent, he saw Taichi pull one of the pests clinging to the pillars from her safe spot with a string of chakra.

The closer Sasuke came to Sawada, the more opposition he found in his path. Now with a sword in his hand, he had everything he needed to step up his game. The blade raced from side to side, then stabbed forward, was reversed, blocked, changed grip, and lastly became death as he whirled on the spot.

One shinobi went down; his comrades approach with more vigor. A wholly inappropriate grin tugged at Sasuke's lips. In a dark part of his mind he admitted, quietly, that he had missed this. Not exactly the killing, but the fighting. It was a sense of emptiness inside him that had just started to fill up during his first bout of combat in this country, when the rebels had attacked their caravan.

The smell of blood and waste started to linger as the body count increased.

He grew more offensive, lashing out with more precision, more strength, more agility. It was so easy to get the back in the hang of things. Far easier than usual, he thought, and Sakura played a large part in that particular phenomenon.

The moment his guard weakened, a wall of stone covered him. A fraction of a second in which his side was exposed, and a nasty spike erupted from the floor, breaking apart the marbled tiles. At times her techniques required specific maneuvering around them, but he took the added security any time over free range of movement. Fighting like this was like having a thick, reactionary armor, and in time it would feel completely natural.

A weight attached to a chain hurtled at his head. Sasuke sent his current opponent to the ground with a kick to the shin that pushed a resounding crack past his eardrums. The weight, as expected, met Sakura's protection, breaking the wall but falling down uselessly afterward. Wheeling around, Sasuke grabbed the chain and the weight, tugging hard. The kunoichi at the other end lost her balance for a second, and Sasuke threw the weight back at her head.

A dull thud of metal hitting flesh later, the woman slumped, her head caved in.

Only two more to go, and both went down easily thanks to Sakura. Then Sasuke was in front of Sawada.

The prince calmly watched him approach, and Sasuke mentally commended him for not running away.

The certainty of defeat lingered in Sawada's eyes, but also an underlying strength of principle. He wouldn't run from his decision, nor would he beg to change his fate. In that regard he was far more agreeable than his younger brother, who, last time Sasuke had looked, still clung to Sakura like a newborn to its mother.

Shrugging, Sasuke raised his sword. What the prince did and didn't consider honorable behavior wasn't his problem anymore. Before Sasuke's blade met the shock of brown hair though, Taichi's voice stopped him.

"Don't." The command in that single word was enough to make Sasuke pause. "It isn't our place to spill royal blood," Taichi continued. "Only the Daimyo has the right to decide the fate of his family."

Sasuke abandoned his previous attacking stance, letting the edge of his sword trail small, lazy circles in front of Sawada's throat. A heap of corpses lay around Taichi. Not the cleanest work, but quite impressive nonetheless.

"Kill me or don't, Uchiha, but this won't be the last time something like this happens." Sawada then directed his gaze to his father, cold eyes piercing the old Daimyo. "I am not the only one unwilling to accept your rule, father. And as long as Konoha happily eats in these halls that won't change. You betrayed your country long before I betrayed you. That is the truth, and you know it."

Having had enough of this family spat, Sasuke decided to accelerate matters. "Daimyo-sama?"

The old man looked all his years and more when, after a moment of deliberation, he shook his head. Again Sasuke was left with the sensation of agreeing with Sawada on principle. The Daimyo's lead had been weak from what he gathered over time; then again, Konoha hadn't given him much of a choice.

The fate of the weaker, he recognized. It could have been his, easily, had Kakashi-sensei not uncovered the plans of the invasion.

"Put him in chains," the Daimyo spoke, voice exhausted and raspy. "He is still my son. He will always be…but Taichi is right. No royal blood shall be spilled tonight."

Sasuke went to work, tying Sawada's hands together with the chain he liberated from that unfortunate kunoichi whose head he had caved in. While he chained up the oldest, Sakura went with the youngest over to Taichi and his liege. Yui and her cupbearer were there, too. She couldn't quite decide where to look though, or what to say, really. Her eyes oscillated between her father, her two brothers and her cupbearer; her mouth opened and closed, no audible tone leaving it.

At length, Sasuke deposited Sawada on his knees in front of the Daimyo, hands bound behind the back, feet equally bound.

"You did well, Uchiha-san, Haruno-san." Taichi nodded at them—far more respectfully than before, Sasuke found. A tired grin followed the man's words. "Seems like the stories about Konoha's teamwork aren't unfounded after all." He paused, then shook his head. "You normally have a third member in that formation? A scary thought if there ever was one…"

Then the Daimyo stepped forward, his small bow feeling quite surreal. Mostly because it was accompanied by a derisive snort from the prisoner at Sasuke's feet.

The Daimyo ignored his son. "I, too, thank you for your support. Be assured, Sarutobi-dono will hear of your valor."

"That's not necess—"

Sakura stopped. Sasuke's head snapped around.

Taichi was the first to react. He whirled on the spot. Too late. A sword lanced through his stomach, leaving the body through his back. The cupbearer wore a self-assured, almost cocky smile. She pulled out the sword and drove it through Taichi a second time.

Sasuke moved, pushing himself away from the ground with enough force to leave cracks, propelling himself toward the woman with a violent dispersion of air. He was fast; she was faster. Before he even came close, the Daimyo's head got severed. An arc of scarlet fountained from the neck as the body slumped to the ground, a sack of dead meat unbalanced.

Sasuke stopped, distanced himself again and took position beside Sakura.

"No!" Yui screamed. The scream soon transformed into incoherent babbling as she slapped the back of her maid. "No, no, no…You said you wouldn't…You just wanted to—"

The woman batted Yui away like a fly, and the princess fell to the ground, all of her previous grace gone. At the other side Sawada looked first in genuine horror at the severed head of his father, then locked eyes with the cupbearer, a spark of interest driving away the disgust.

"Sawada-dono," the maid spoke, "you seem an honorable man. I think I will have to revise my original plan of uplifting your sister."

Sawada seemed quite interested in the proposal, and a sense of something not quite graspable filled Sasuke. Fear? No, but certainly similar. He slowly backed away with Sakura, behind whom Iho still hid, crawling with them one inch at a time.

"Oh? And who are you?"

The maid changed, not in height but in sex, and Sasuke had an unpleasant flashback to the now-drowned Kabuto—who thankfully had stayed dead. Contrary to the silver-haired menace though, the maid's transformation had nothing to do with physical altering. There was no revolting rippling of flesh and nerves, but a smooth blur, a faint wisp of chakra. Sasuke couldn't quite decide if he had ever witnessed an illusion of that quality before.

Who emerged instead of the maid was someone Sakura and him recognized from a dozen different briefings though. Gray eyes, seemingly chipped from stone, were framed by hair that had become a brown buzz-cut at the sides, but lengthened toward the back of his head where it spilled out in a ponytail held together by a small jade ornament. He wore the beginnings of a chin beard, but it appeared so due to laziness. The rest: all stubble.

Sasuke lacked the words to accurately articulate his current feelings.

Senyaku—leader of the rebel army, now, with this latest regicide, also a king slayer. Sasuke saw Sawada and Senyaku come to an understanding, the heir's eyes flickering over to them, more precisely to Iho.

Sakura threw her golden food knife at Sawada so Senyaku had to deflect it. Then they ran.

Sasuke pushed himself to his physical limit, speeding out of the hall, into the corridors and toward the exit. The entrance to the palace was close by. Then he noticed Sakura was lagging behind. Glancing back he found her to be carrying that useless excuse of a prince, doing her best to catch up. Behind her, Senyaku gained ground, fast.

He should have known this would happen. Sakura was far more compassionate and would never leave that waste of space to fend for himself. Turning abruptly, Sasuke shouted "Move!" as he barreled past her, crashing into Senyaku head-on.

He had no time to see whether she followed his command. Senyaku's sword came at him from every conceivable angle, and after juking to the left, Sasuke ate the plated fist of the man who was now clad in an antique Suna armor. Sasuke smashed through a pillar in the hallway, stopping short at the wall. Hands green, he went to work as Senyaku tried to get past Sakura. Running toward the exit on his own was Iho, back facing them.

Just as Senyaku's sword slashed alongside Sakura's block, slicing into her arm, Sasuke entered the fray again, slower though, still dizzy and injured. The second fist kissed him, and he felt Sakura's body press against his as they tumbled to the ground.

Both were scrambling away from the next attack, when the wide hallway was filled with the loudest screech Sasuke had ever heard, all noise drowned out by it. While Senyaku turned to the cause, Sakura and Sasuke brought distance between them.

Bleeding and enveloped in wind chakra, Taichi came in at high velocity, pushed forward by the squall behind him. Sasuke had barely time to blink, then the old veteran barreled into Senyaku, clinging to the man with all his strength, the wind shredding Senyaku's armor.

"Run!" Senyaku stabbed Taichi, but the man didn't let go. "Take the prince and…" Taichi grunted, blood spilling out his mouth. "Go!"

They didn't need to hear that command twice. Both started for Iho, Sakura soon with him, not looking back and racing through the double-winged doors leading out of the palace. Before the entrance, Sasuke stopped, however, looking back at the two struggling shinobi.

Taichi wouldn't live much longer. Soon Senyaku would have won, no matter the injuries he sustained while doing so.

There was a voice inside him that told Sasuke, in no unclear terms, that his next action wasn't right. The much louder voice however told him that they'd all die if he didn't do it. That his integrity and peace of mind was a small price to pay for keeping Sakura alive.

Without a diversion they'd never make it out of the capital.

Sasuke stopped thinking, blinked once, uttered a silent apology and a plea for forgiveness, then race through hand seals.

A spark of heat surged up his throat, leaving the taste of ash on his tongue as it blasted forward and out of his mouth, shaping into a fire dragon that hit the dome of wind surrounding Taichi and Senyaku.

Sasuke turned and ran. He had no desire to see this. The sound, and the heat on his skin was more than enough, and he never looked back, even as he heard something crumble behind him. He caught up with Sakura on the bridge leading away from the palace, following her into the lower levels of Sukoru.

Much later he would learn that the explosion had ripped apart the support pillars of the entrance hall, bringing down the whole front area of the palace in a chain reaction. For now though, he was just glad that they had made it. He doubted a man like Senyaku would die from that attack, no matter how powerful it seemed to be, but at least it gave them the time to actually leave the capital.

Feeling the cold draft of night, Sasuke closed his eyes. That Taichi had died in the fire of his creation, of that he had no doubt.

* * *

 **AN:** So, here we are. Next chapter complete. I hope this one satisfied your thirst for action while still leaving room for the characters to shine through. Tension is ramping up, a coup has happened, Rōshi moves steadily onward toward Wind Country, and Temari can cook. The last one is of particular importance, since who doesn't love a good meal?

I know that OCs can be a sore spot for people, and this story certainly as a few of them (the whole royal household, Senyaku, etc.) but that's the drawback of building on a setting/place like Wind Country about which not much is known. It was my wish to still make these people interesting to you, while also not having them overshadow in any way the protagonists. Hopefully that worked somewhat.

No question this time, just glad that many of you liked the last chapter. Nothing quite like it to boost morale.


	9. Crossed VI

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Crossed – VI**

* * *

 _"_ _But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated."_

* * *

Enlightening conversations came and went, as did two weeks far more pleasant than every prior stage of Naruto's imprisonment. Temari visited twice a day. Once at night with food, then during the day to exchange stories about Gaara. Later they would change to other topics, all of them unrelated to the war. Fourteen pleasant days without once seeing Ren's ugly mug. Like a child that discarded a broken toy he had lost all interest, and Naruto took up that role with relish, feeling the return of the acuity he hadn't even noticed he lost in the constant tug of war with the Kyuubi.

Now if only Sasuke and Sakura could hurry up and rescue him, preferably without killing Temari, then he'd actually be able to call this a good week. Maybe his rapid mood swings were hallmarks of insanity, but if so, then a pleasant one. He liked hearing about the civilian hierarchy in Wind Country, tasting smuggled Rakaji while learning that the Arts Academy in Ike was considered the best in the world.

"I've seen a play there once," Temari said, head reclined against a crate. "The group was certified from the academy and all. Yashamaru took us…Kankuro and me, I mean. I'm certain they wouldn't have let Gaara come even close to that many people."

"And what did they do, juggle some balls and spit fire?"

Questions like that always managed to rile her up, the mere insinuation of a bad performance all that was necessary to get her going. Temari loved her country, very much so. She knew the world was ugly, their profession even more so, acknowledged that Konoha's conquest began only after Suna's betrayal, and that her father had been a cold-hearted bastard. And still she showed pride, recounted in detail all her country's accomplishments and monuments to art, her people's hardiness to survive in the desert, the grand bazaar of Hajim, when ships from the other continent arrived in their yearly interval, eliciting a celebration lasting for two days and three nights, green paper lanterns lighting the sky, the scent of tobacco, freedom, and joy in every street.

Naruto had once told his teammates that he liked his village well enough, loved some people inside it even. Against Temari's conviction, however, those words paled. He always found himself humbled afterwards, wishing to see, at least one time, his country through similar eyes.

But regardless of his own stance, the inevitable question was what Temari considered to be the best for Wind Country? He never got an answer. When he had asked a few days ago, she had left the tent in a hurry, truthful to her promise that anything even remotely related to war or the rebel movement would make her pull the plug on their conversations.

Currently she shot him a glare, shimmying around in her battle dress. Today was hot, and had he been able move even an inch he would have liked to wiggle around in his ragged shirt as well. The sweat-soaked fabric stuck to his body as if it had been welded to him.

"Spit fire?" she asked. "Have you ever been to a play before? Any third rate group spits fire!" Shaking her head she continued, "No, they enacted a tale from the times before the Hidden Villages came into existence. There—"

The sudden pause filled the tent with silence and his stomach with a sluggish feeling. Temari had become extremely careful in applying her security measures, and when his questioning look went unacknowledged, the implication wasn't lost on Naruto. She jumped to her feet, darted to where the fabric hadn't been fastened the right way, and quickly crawled under it onto the other side.

A breach in the perimeter, then. Naruto pinned the entrance with a steadfast gaze, wondering who would come in next. Ren? Or maybe even the big cheese, Senyaku?

When the flap was pushed aside Naruto at first didn't recognize the person standing across him, surrounded by a nimbus of sunlight. Then the figure rushed at him, the sweaty, red face of Fatso coming closer with a frightening speed. He launched his meaty fist forward, and Naruto's head snapped to the side. His body wanted to follow, but the ropes jerked it back.

He grew dizzy at the force behind the punch. Just as he came back to life, another fist caught him in the chin, sending his face the other way. The pole creaked.

Naruto stared blurry-eyed at Fatso, who was panting like a sow. Red circled his eyes. A glob of snot ran down his nose.

Fatso wiped away the snot, his lips forming words. Silent whispers drowned out by rage. Until Fatso continued pounding him, that was, his voice growing louder.

"You…killed! Him! You…" Harsh, guttural, breathless. "You—I…Brother…He…"

Naruto understood only half of what he said, if that much at all, but his brain supplied the answers to the parts he didn't get. Something about a brother who died. He tried to speak, but another punch connected. Naruto saw stars in his vision, swallowed bitter blood. The punches threw him from side to side, the pole creaking in strict time while the ropes cut into his wrists and ankles as they jerked him back, stopping his momentum.

When the assault stopped Naruto tried to keep his balance against the pole. His vision was fuzzy. All around him objects went in and out of focus, as if he were testing new glasses at rapid speed.

"What…" he croaked. "What's…" The sounds died on their way up his throat, only a low warble making it through.

Fatso looked him over, tears spilling out of his pig eyes. Naruto focused on them, then noticed the kunai. Before he could form a coherent thought, the metal slid past his rags.

The warble turned into a choked scream. Fatso's hand shook; he was far more inexperienced than Ren, who had avoided fatal injuries. Naruto lost the strength in his legs as if someone had cut tendons, nerves and muscle all at once. He slumped against the pole. Fatso didn't move with him, and the kunai sliced up Naruto's side until it hit on a rib.

Naruto howled, and Fatso reacted, pulling out the kunai. The ropes kept Naruto from sinking farther down the pole. He barely kept his eyes open. Fatso was leaning into his face, the hot breath of garlic and booze omnipresent.

"I know you've got sum' fancy healing. I won't kill ye now, but I'm making damn sure you'll suffer. I've to talk with Ren, but I'll be back. Mark me words."

That said, Fatso opened the last round of swinging fists.

* * *

When Naruto came to, his body felt like a crumpled Ramen cup lying in the trashcan. Breathing hurt, moving even more so. The scent of fresh vomit and blood clung to him. Eyes fluttering open, the same old view appeared. Slightly less so on the left eye which had started to swell. He was still imprisoned, but why did suddenly everything hurt? He looked at the bloodiest part of his shirt—there, right between the ribs, was a scarlet-brown smear large enough to jolt his disjointed memories.

Fists like boulders. Left, right, left, until his brain had turned to mush. Each passing memory, his insides grew hotter. His nostrils flared, air escaping in a rush as it pressed past the clotted blood chumming it up in his nose. His muscles quivered, his lips warping into a grimace of pain.

He'd make him pay.

A sentiment that had accompanied him through Ren's beatings, and Fatso had secured himself a cushy place on the hit list now, too. He would free himself, sneak into their tents, put his hands around their throats and squeeze like he was wringing out a towel.

Naruto felt the hot sensation in the pit of his stomach grow. There were a million ways to kill a man, and if he had his will, Fatso and Ren would experience all of them. He shuffled on his legs, shifting his body so the pole would support him. The small movement sent a lance of pain up his legs and along his spine, manifesting in a throbbing headache as if his brain tried to pound its way past his skull.

A sense of vertigo overtook him, and it required all of his will to keep himself standing.

 _I will kill them. Both._

The hot rage suffusing him held for quite a while, longer than he was accustomed to feeling that way, but eventually it changed to a cold, more productive sensation.

Fatso had been slugging him, upset, spilling tears over his brother. He had made him what, a scapegoat? Probably. Something had happened to Fatso's brother: a raid gone wrong, or maybe he choked on a slice of apple, Naruto didn't rightly care. But as the only _beatable_ person in the vicinity, he had cashed in on one hell of a revenge act.

And this hadn't been the last time this would happen. Naruto remembered a vague threat, but the details were hazy. Sooner or later though Fatso would come again. He would cry and gorge and drink, and as soon as the alcohol did its work, he'd be visiting, memories fresh, fists ready to start working.

Naruto shifted again. The same spike of pain as before, not dulled in the least. He glared down at his body—the Kyuubi was, once again, taking its sweet time. A taunt as clear as day, and he could do jack about it.

Trying to ignore the pounding in his jaw, Naruto closed his eyes in frustration. At this pace, when Fatso came back to let off steam, he wouldn't be even close to healed up. The pain would stack up until it reached the same levels as with Ren, maybe even higher. The thought drove needles right through his back.

 _I'm stronger than this. I can—I will survive. They will come. Kakashi did it too. Endurance. A shinobi endures. I…_

Maybe he was stronger. But not this time, not in this camp. He had always believed his pain threshold to be higher than others, much higher. But back then he hadn't known the definition of pain like he did now. All his decisions of late seemed like giving up, and that more than anything disgusted him.

In the choice between enduring the pain and begging the Kyuubi to heal him, the latter won—again.

Naruto knew the Bijū was aware of that, and the moment he made his decision, whatever the Kyuubi could smuggle past the seals binding his chakra increased and began to actively restore him.

* * *

Darkness drenched the camp in black as Temari sneaked back to Naruto. When the perimeter had been breached earlier, she had left quickly, intent on keeping their arrangement secret. If need be, she could talk herself out of trouble. Why risk it though?

Ren had told her a few hours ago that an ambush went horribly wrong. Three people died, Kiro's brother one of them. Ren had concluded that having Kiro take out his anger on the prisoner was better than letting it fester. Afterwards Temari had gone to Kiro, working her most invasive Genjutsu yet to scramble his thoughts of revenge. She didn't know if it had worked, but that was all she could do to help.

Now, as everyone was asleep, she stole herself to the tent, sure that Naruto could use some food. Truth be told, the blond had started to grow on her, if only because he offered a unique perspective and possessed a sharp tongue that was quite amusing once you got used to it. For a while now her sense of duty had been warring with whatever kind of weird acquaintanceship they were building. It was a strange thing, and there'd be no sympathy forthcoming from her fellow shinobi if any of it saw the light of day.

As she approached the tent, she slowed her walk, a sudden feeling of unease growing in her stomach. There was something wrong about…about what? Temari couldn't put her finger on it, but there was this nagging sense of familiarity. Something she should know, but couldn't recall at the moment.

Before she reached the tent, she had stopped completely and was probing the sensation.

 _Chakra_ , she thought. And there was so much wrong with that simple conclusion that for a second she wondered if she was mistaken. Concentrating, she extended her senses and, just like before, came to the same result.

The energy, wisp-like, emanated from inside the tent. It was subtle, barely existing even, and if she hadn't been well-versed in recognizing such fine-spun signatures from her training, she wouldn't have noticed at all.

Temari shut her eyes, trying to mute one sense and making more room for the others to work in return. Minutes passed, and with each second the sheer _wrongness_ of the chakra she was feeling became more apparent. A shudder rushed through her arms; a bit of slurry spilled from the bowl. Little worms, hundreds of them, crawling slowly over her skin in every direction—then came fire, burning and charring them—until they were reborn and continued on their path.

The moment she tasted the slightest hint of sourness in her mouth, she shut off her senses as best she could, hoping for the violating feeling to vanish.

Eyes fixed to the ground she waited, her sluggish heartbeat returning to normalcy. She reached for a kunai, lips pressed together.

Inside the tent, the worms came back. She struggled to shrug off the feeling, but this time it didn't work as quickly. This close the menacing sensation reached for her sanity, and it took a momentous effort to direct her attention toward Naruto. More a bag of colored flesh than human, he was enveloped in a faint, red glow.

Chakra. Wrong Chakra.

She had hoped it wasn't him, even if that hadn't been feasible. Now though she couldn't deny the facts—though the _how_ eluded her. Naruto jolted at her sight. There was something panicked in his look. Whatever it was though, it smoothed out for a second as he directed his gaze to his wound. Then the look returned full force.

"Temari…"

He said something else, too, but she couldn't hear much more than her name. All of her attention was directed to his stab wound. Like scarlet vines, muscle fibers grew together—a grotesque carpet of wriggling threads.

He was still talking, but Temari heard nothing save her pulse hammering in her head. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Association…Baki had told her once that this was how their brain worked. She stared at the red film of chakra, thin as the skin of an onion. The worms kept crawling. Familiarity.

Her chin started trembling.

 _Gaara._

It felt too similar to be anything else. But Naruto wasn't Gaara. He wasn't the Jinchūriki of the Ichibi. He came from Konoha, and that left only one alternative.

"Temari!" His shout ripped her out of her thoughts. "I…"

She didn't let him finish, showing Naruto her back almost immediately, legs carrying her out of the tent as fast as possible.

* * *

Naruto stared after Temari's retreating back, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. And immediately (before his teeth even left the flesh), mocking him, the Kyuubi's chakra rushed up, healing it completely.

Naruto's fists were shaking. Spittle built up in the corners of his mouth.

She knew. God, she knew, and what she'd do with this knowledge was anyone's guess. Gaara was a prime example of how Jinchūriki were received in Wind Country. Being the host to the worst of the Nine…

He shook his head.

 _Concentrate._

But it didn't work. The moment he attempted to focus, his vision clouded. His thoughts turned back to the Kyuubi on their own volition. He had tried to stop the flow of chakra when Temari entered, maybe then he could've talked his way out of this situation. The Kyuubi had complied at first—for a second Naruto had believed everything would turn out alright—but then the fox had resumed to push as much chakra through him as possible.

How? Were the seals weakening? If so, then only because he had become dependent on the beast, had used its power too often to avoid feeling pain. The routine had bred acceptance, something that should have never happened when it concerned a Bijū.

The tunnel vision receded. He lowered his head as all strength gave way, even the one supplied by his anger.

A resigned grin tugged at his lips.

Temari ran out on him. She learned what he was, and despite the similarities to her own brother (or maybe because of them), she had turned away. He had been a fool for expecting anything else. Sasuke, Sakura…hell, even Kakashi—their acceptance wasn't the norm. It was the exception he had gotten so used to that this—was it rejection?—that this rejection hit him all the harder for it.

All these others seemed so far away.

This was now though.

His limp hands dangled from the ropes.

* * *

Gasping for air, Temari sunk down behind a barrel at the other end of the camp. The distance had been short, but her legs ached.

When she thought about what she had just learned, her shoulders curled even further. Some dozen feet away, wind rushed past a clothes line; the slight rustle, the faint noise, brought goosebumps to her flesh.

She closed her eyes, tried to calm down.

 _Rational, Temari_ , she told herself. _Think rational_. – Even when her flight had been anything but.

A Jinchūriki.

The same as her brother. She felt her cheeks burn. The thickness in her throat that had settled there since she entered the tent didn't vanish.

The same as Gaara. And she had reacted like back in the days when they had still been a team. With fear. Just like always. And she knew that it was different. That Gaara was a special case, because his seal had been shoddy.

But.

She ran her hand through the sand, then clenched it to a fist. As much as she felt shame for running, for still feeling fear…she couldn't stop feeling it. Just thinking about going back to Naruto sent shivers down her spine.

It was weak. She despised weak. Yet, there she was.

God, a Jinchūriki.

But she was stronger than this. She had to be. All this talk about being a big sister and then she failed at even being in the presence of someone like her brother. Temari felt the first tear slide past her eyelids, and, wiping it way, found it strange. She couldn't remember having cried in more than a decade.

* * *

In the outskirts of a village, two days travel away from Sukoru, Sakura sat in an abandoned old hut. She had one leg pulled to her chest and kept her head well below the sight-range of the window. Iho was always in her view from there, and whenever the prince startled at a noise from outside, he looked at her for reassurance. By now his expensive silk robes had lost a lot of their color, the once soft green coated with grime.

A loud voice brought another shock to Iho. The voice hollered the price for delicious dates in a volume loud enough to make itself heard all across the village. Iho twitched. His eyes jumped rapidly between the corners of the room, then settled on her.

Sakura sent him a weak smile in response. There wasn't much she could cheer herself up with, let alone someone who had just lost one part of his family due to another part of it; a situation, she acknowledged, that wasn't that much different from Sasuke's own circumstances, though the Uchiha probably would never admit it.

"Will we be on our way soon, Sakura-san?" Iho asked. The suaveness of the carefree prince was gone entirely.

"Patience, Iho-dono."

Five minutes later Sasuke returned, knocking at the door in a sequence they had made up beforehand. He lost his henge; a goat bladder filled with water was squeezed in his arm. He threw it at Iho without a word. The prince scrambled over the floor, and Sasuke's glare told Sakura all she had to know about his current disposition.

Sasuke motioned for her to join him at the other end of the house, and she rose wearily, paying no attention to Iho, who likewise ignored them.

"They're looking for us," Sasuke said. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

"Already?"

"Messengers were asking around at the market…I had to take a detour through the back alleys."

"Senyaku works quick," Sakura said, trying to rub the tiredness out of her eyes and, failing that, irritating them further. "What now?"

"Naruto."

For a moment she had problems finding the right words, because she had expected this, wanted it herself, yet her mind told her that this was exactly the problem, and that the situation had changed, drastically at that, making her own wants irrelevant.

Before, leaving to look for Naruto wouldn't have had much impact. On them, certainly, but not on others. Now the Daimyo had been assassinated though, and his son ruled Sukoru in tandem with the rebels. And, having had his world shattered by consecutive blows as reality advanced on him, the last royal person that liked Konoha was cowering in a corner, guzzling water as if it were the last drink he'd ever have.

"If we go, Iho will die," she said, forcing herself to look at Sasuke. "He won't survive on his own. They'll find him, and with him the last royal thinking favorably of Konoha."

Sasuke's shrug was precise in its distaste. "He's a waste of space. Even if he were to become the Daimyo, this country would sink under his rule." He glared at the prince. "I'm going to look for Naruto."

And his words, callous as they were, almost convinced her then and there. The thought of finally being free to search for the missing part of their family…But she couldn't. A sick feeling rose inside her. It wasn't even that they had no clue where to find Naruto. They hadn't had that for Kakashi either.

It also wasn't that she would shed tears if Iho died. If that were all, she'd leave the guy in a heartbeat. But Iho had value. If he died, Konoha's chances of uplifting someone friendly to them went up in flames. The whole pacification was endangered as is; that though would be the final nail in the coffin.

Her thoughts spiraled on a steep decline. Once the pacification failed, the western front would break under the strain. Or if it didn't break, then at least making stabilizing the country take so much longer. She had no delusions about the nature of this war. Her Hokage fought against the clock as much as against Iwa. That with a split army he held out against Kusa and Oto as well was a miracle in itself. Eventually though, he'd need all those prospective Chūnin that now resided in and around Suna. If the pacification were taking too long, or failed even, then everyone would suffer. And that wouldn't just affect Team Seven, like it did with Kakashi, but all of Konoha, from the civilians up to the Hokage.

Images of all the people she had met flashed through her mind, from old classmates and friends like Ino, to the grouchy grandma with the sharp tongue that still always had an apple for her when she passed her stall on the way to the academy; or her father, sad as thinking about him tended to make her. And when she balanced all this at one end of the scale, putting Naruto at the other, she found that weighing was far too difficult, and that she resented having to do it nonetheless.

When Sasuke went toward the door Sakura felt a clump blocking her throat. He looked ready to leave.

As he began to move, her hand snapped forward, grabbing his arm. He turned, looking content. He believed that she was agreeing with him, she realized, like she had always done before. And it made it all the harder when she strengthened her grip and shook her head slightly, her insides twisting like snakes.

"Sasuke…"

He stopped, eyes widening. He hadn't expected a refusal, and it showed. His arm was slightly trembling and rage began to creep onto his face. Then his body stilled. All emotions gone in a flash, like ghosts leaving when dawn arrived.

His voice cut. "Explain."

Sakura did explain, in hushed tones, and even while talking the rationalization felt right in some respect, but was horribly wrong in so many others. How could she leave Naruto alone? But the alternative wasn't possible either.

She soldiered through. Sasuke listened, face betraying nothing.

At the end he was silent, his gaze pinned on Iho for what seemed like hours. Sakura thought she had learned how to read him, but the Uchiha proved that if he truly wanted to, he could shut her out completely.

And if he left her here with Iho, would she be strong enough to resist the pull? Would she cave, leaving Iho to follow him? This wasn't a matter of pride, but either way she went, she had the feeling she would make a mistake.

The possibility of Team Seven splitting into three parts, each in a different part of the desert, brought her a headache.

Then, decision made, Sasuke leaned back against the wall. "What's your plan?"

No relief flooded her at those words. She had convinced him. Great. Just not really, because there was no good way out of this, no matter what they did.

Still, she nodded thankfully at him. Sasuke had chosen her over his desire to search for Naruto, just as she had chosen Konoha over her own.

"We deliver him to Danzō," she said. "Then we go search for Naruto. If we hurry we lose a few days at best."

"Danzō won't let us leave again." Sakura knew that was true, but she hadn't planned on articulating it. Sasuke had no such qualms, and continued, "There's no way that man will send us back out. We'll be under constant supervision the moment we return, you can bet on that. He knows about Kakashi."

All things she knew; all things she would've liked to avoid hearing for quite a while longer.

"If we don't do it, we endanger everyone we know."

Sasuke's lips lifted into a cynical smile. "And who do we know who's worth as much as Naruto?"

Bastard. The decision was hard enough already. Did he have to rub it in now?

"That's not fair, Sasuke. I—"

He interrupted her with a grunt and moved over to Iho, snatching the now empty goat bladder from his hands. As he passed her on the way to the door, he said, "I'll refill again. Then we'll deliver him."

She made to call after him as he left but thought better of it. This tension was something completely foreign, and she didn't know how to deal with it, not really. Sakura slid down the wall until she sat again, her eyes once more fixed on the prince.

* * *

Three nights later, Suna became visible. In three months of absence, repairs had restored much of the village, walls excluded. The scaffolding all around them promised though that they, too, would soon be standing again.

Sasuke continued cataloging the novelties until Sakura joined him on the dune. She had carried Iho for seventy hours now, and while it wasn't strenuous work, the irritation showed on her face.

Good.

He had no obligations toward the useless prince, and if she wished to get him to Danzō that urgently she could do so on her own. He would make sure she'd arrive in one piece, that was all.

"Last stretch," Sakura said, shifting Iho on her shoulder.

Sasuke grunted in the most non-committal manner he could muster. They hadn't talked much since she had forced him into compliance. And there was no mistaking her pleading and lost stare as anything but a forceful subjugation of his will.

When he went down the dune, Sakura followed. Soon they passed the Shard Wall and arrived in front of the gate. The Chūnin guard there recognized them, immediately sending a Genin on duty to inform Danzō. Sakura woke the prince and, just as he returned from his dreams, Danzō halted in front of them, attention fixed on Iho. He directed his question at Sasuke. "Why is a prince of Wind Country here?"

What Sasuke wanted to answer was that he had asked himself the same question for days now.

"Who are you?" Iho asked sleepily.

First Danzō looked like he wanted to ignore him, but then replied, "My name is Shimura Danzō, young prince."

Sakura said, "It might be better to talk in a private setting. This really isn't the place."

Before long Iho was taken away to a nearby location for political guests. The fragments of Team Seven joined Danzō for their debriefing in the command tent. Sasuke felt that not nearly enough time had passed since he last stood on the exact same spot, listening, trying in vain to signal Naruto that making an enemy of their current commander was a bad move.

"Report," Danzō said.

So they did, or rather, Sakura did. Sasuke stood listening, throwing in a clipped comment or two to clarify when necessary. In general though he stayed quiet as Sakura regaled Danzō with the story of the wreckage their mission had become. Danzō's attention lingered on Sasuke after learning of his part in Hien's end.

When Sakura was done, Danzō's voice was frigid. "I sent you to reinforce peace. Now you are back, and you bring me news of regicide, of plots and assassinations. You are missing one member. And if you add that to your past transgressions…your record leaves a lot to be desired."

Sasuke knew that wasn't true. With killing Zabuza, their deeds during the invasion and their fast promotion, he doubted there were a lot of other teams that could boast their record. There was one blemish, true, but that was sealed. As far as other people knew, their record was as clean as a bar of soap.

Well, it had been. Before they accepted that last mission and lost Naruto to the desert, the Daimyo to his son, and themselves to strife.

"However," Danzō continued, "despite my initial misgivings you have performed adequately under the pressure of your changed mission parameters. I expected you to look for your teammate, but in continuing the mission you put the village first." He paused, and Sasuke kept himself from shooting Sakura a glare. "That," Danzō said, "is commendable." He sounded surprised, almost.

"What about Naruto?" Sasuke said.

"I have already alerted the scouts. Without further information, combing the desert is an exercise in futility though."

Sakura said, "We could—"

"No. For now, and until we have a better grasp of the situation, you will stay at the camp. As will you, Uchiha. That is an order."

"Naruto is the Jinchūriki of the Kyuubi," Sasuke said.

"Which makes his survival likely. Uzumaki will be with us soon enough."

Sasuke clenched his fists. "That—"

"Go now," Danzō said. "We had to restructure the camp in your absence, but a tent for your team has been erected in the northern sector. The quartermaster will give you further directions."

Sakura looked like she wanted to argue, but Sasuke took her by her arm and marched her out of the tent. Danzō was a stubborn mule, and today at least there would be no changing his mind. What good was having their team 'officially' back together, if one third was missing? To hate being right was a frustrating feeling.

* * *

Flying backwards, Kakashi had time to blink once, taking in the last visible stretch of sun behind the forest, and the veil of purple and orange surrounding it. Then he crashed through two trees, a dozen thorny bushes, finally being stopped by a boulder which fissured on contact.

Air left his lungs in a violent burst as he slumped down the boulder.

He heard the rustling of leaves. A second later Tsunade came through the underbrush, a far too pleased smile on her face, hands glowing green. She squatted beside him to heal the damage.

"It worked." Her words. The tingling in his spine agreed.

 _Boy, did it work._

Since the forceful reminder of her hemophobia they had worked on accustoming her to the sight of blood—if only in an illusionary setting at first. But they had to start somewhere, and it turned out that it had been a necessity beyond even the original problem.

Tsunade of the Sannin, the world's premier expert on chakra control, had been vulnerable to Genjutsu, even if she'd never had any problems with it before. One speck of red, even if it was only in her head, and she was paralyzed, unable to deal with it.

Kakashi knew that a secret like that was worth his weight in gold if it were ever to be leaked. At least it would have been like that until now. Two minutes ago she broke out of his Genjutsu though, punching him with her full-strength. (He hoped it was her full strength. God help her enemies if it wasn't.)

Her hand infused a soothing sensation into his back, and he marveled once more at her healing abilities, also feeling a slight anxiety at the thought of training with her in earnest.

"Congratulation, Tsunade-sama," he said, flashing a brief smile under his mask. "Now comes the hard part though."

"I know," she said. "But I will manage."

Single-minded determination—a trait found in many of the stronger shinobi. Some use it for good, others for not-so-good things. He was probably a mash up between those two options, Kakashi mused.

 _Though tending toward the not-so-good things most likely._

"Do you want to continue?" he asked, after regaining the power to stand on his own feet again.

Tsunade glanced at the colored dusk, then shook her head. "Let's stop for now. I still have work to do."

"You mean Shizune has work for you."

"No one likes a smartass, Hatake," she said with a scowl.

 _Back to last name again, huh?_

"My deepest apologies, Tsunade-sama."

A deferential bow of him later, she looked as though she might hit him again. Then she smiled. It was a small thing—tiny, really—but it was there, pulling the corners of her mouth upward. "Shizune will be out of my hair once I'm done—shouldn't take too long. If you want a drink, come by in two hours. I'm sure she'd like to see you, too."

He disliked the intonation. The insinuation wasn't lost on him, of course, but he definitely had other problems right now, even if Shizune was quite the looker.

Kakashi contemplated declining the invitation. Then he thought better of it. So far Tsunade had presented him with the best liquor he had ever tasted. He doubted that would change anytime soon.

"I'll be there," he said, nodding thoughtfully.

Kakashi couldn't quite shake the feeling that his interactions with the Sannin were slowly changing him into an alcoholic.

* * *

A bell tolling in his head, Naruto slowly opened his eyes. Seconds later he noticed that the bell hadn't just been in his head. He glanced around, finding the first sign that something was wrong in the fabric of the tent. It billowed inward, looking like the sail of a skiff full of wind.

Hunger made thinking hard. But if this wasn't a Jutsu gone wrong, it couldn't mean anything good. Or maybe it would be just what he needed. The bell still made frantic sounds. No Jutsu, then, as a technique wouldn't likely require an alarm like this.

So, what did?

Perhaps an attack? Temari could probably tell him, but he hadn't seen her since that night. By now the anger had lessened, though the pit of resignation remained. He should have never gotten hopeful in the first place. Things didn't change that easily, and the disgust for a Jinchūriki seemed much like a universal law.

At least Fatso hadn't visited him anymore, despite any prior promises of continuous pain and anguish. Actually, no one had visited. He was forgotten. And, truth be told, he smelled like it. Not that this was anything new since entering into the rebels' delightful company, but the loneliness seemed to have only exacerbated the smell.

Naruto perked up when the clangor of the bell began to be drowned out by screamed commands and shouts.

The commotion outside grew, as did the contrast between the anxiety and glee he felt.

* * *

Once, long ago, Temari had witnessed the desert fall into cruel rage as Odaya forsook them and the gods of wind made every grain of sand their plaything. Back then—she had been what, eight, nine?—her father had ordered them to stay inside their home and not to come out under any circumstances.

She had obeyed of course, but curiosity still drove her to the shuttered windows where, through a small gap, she peeked outside. That moment had served to hammer home one point forcefully: there were sandstorms, those that happened every month or so, and then there were _Sandstorms_.

The latter was heading for their camp.

"Weapons and water!" Ren shouted at the scrambling shinobi. "Leave everything else." He repeated the line, voice growing louder each time. Beside him, Kiro had unsealed a bell and a hammer, making a racket even the dead could hear.

Temari stood next to her comrades, battle fan secured on her back, watching the storm approach at rapid speed. She held her arm in front of her face to ward off the particles flying around, thinking that this was just what had been missing to make this week the most miserable in her life. Since that night her mood had been at an all-time low. Her Genjutsu on Kiro had worked, but that was about it. Each day she resolved to visit Naruto, to show not just him but also herself that a Jinchūriki wasn't to be feared on principle, to prove to herself that she could do it, be in the presence of one without feeling discomfited, that she could eventually become the sister she had tried though never managed to be before.

Each day she failed, and with every new excuse (which she rightly identified as being just that) Temari's disgust at her own weakness increased. She had never thought of herself as weak, but lately that seemed to be all she was. Not even Kankuro's new letter changed anything, since he sounded more and more like a raving lunatic, and that only served to worry her further. God, when had things become this complicated? So far, the brunt of her disgruntlement had hit Ren, Kiro and the other rebels around her, mostly when they bothered her while she was berating herself.

The commands continued, mantra-like. "Just your weapons!" They caught on with others too, and soon they began to shout it as well at the people leaving the outer tents in a hurry. "Just your water!"

"To the caves! Hurry!"

Temari paid attention to the new order. The camp was a few minutes of high-speed travel away from a hollowed-out rock formation. There they could find shelter until the storm blew over.

She carefully kept her tone neutral. "What about the prisoner?"

Shouldering a large scroll with sealed water supplies, Ren said, "No time. It's regrettable, but we can't afford unneeded ballast."

"He might survive this," she said, nodding at the incoming sandstorm. Her hopes weren't too high though.

Ren grunted. "That thing's not taking any survivors today." He looked at the assembling shinobi. "Hurry!" As they began to move faster, he turned back to her. "No Konoha scum is worth one of ours."

Before she could get another word in, Ren was already bellowing new orders. One headcount later and satisfied, Ren made for the western outskirts of the camp, from where they then would speed toward the caves. The others followed him, as did Temari.

When they passed by the prisoner tent, she slowed. The Kyuubi's Jinchūriki. Naruto, she amended. He shared a burden with her brother she wished on no one, yet, again, all she could think of when remembering what had happened that night was the sensation of his chakra, the sickness rampaging inside her when she had opened her senses to it.

Weakness, that's what it was—sheer undiluted failure. When he had told her about Gaara she had deluded herself into thinking that she'd be fine with her little brother now, that she could deal with him. After all, family was important. Big talk and wishful thinking. When the chips had come down at last, she'd been too weak, her resolve nothing more than a mirage so frequently encountered in the desert.

She glared at the tent, the wind around her growing so strong that it loosened one of the ribbons in her hair. Seconds later, she realized with a start that she had stopped moving altogether. Her eyes searched for her comrades, and found them just as they were scaling a dune to get away from the storm. None of them were looking back, all their attention directed forward as they tried to outrun nature.

Her gaze returned to the tent. The pit of her stomach fluttered. She knew that, in the camp, she was faster than most of her fellow Suna-nin—catching up to them wouldn't pose much of a problem.

 _Get him out and then to the caves. That's possible, Temari. Out and to the caves, just that little stretch. He's human, you idiot. Come on. He isn't anything to be afraid of. Neither is Gaara. They're just that, special humans. Isn't that what you told yourself all the time before? It's true. It has to be, and you'll prove it. C'mon now, you big coward! Move!_

She stepped forward, eyes never leaving the violently moving flap at the entrance. If Ren asked she could always tell him something about the necessity of preserving every available resource, especially in their current situation.

But that she had a ready if weak excuse wasn't the point anyway. She wanted to know. She wanted to understand. More than anything she wished to forget that night, and her reaction back then.

She had progressed. She did grow up. She wasn't the same as before, and it didn't matter if the Kyuubi or the Ichibi, she could deal with both their hosts. And maybe then that damn feeling of irrational guilt would vanish.

Forgetting for a moment the war and all the difficulties it brought, Temari threw away the last bit of caution and darted into the tent.

* * *

"What is going on? Is there—"

"Shut up," Temari said, ignoring the rest of Naruto's words as she rushed up to him and tried to loosen his bindings. The ropes were drawn tight around the pole though. She ripped at them, but they held fast.

From the corners of her eyes she noticed understanding dawn on his face. "Smudge the seals on my back," he said. "Quick. If I have chakra, this will—"

"Shut up!"

Her bellow interrupted him and his mouth snapped shut. As if she would give him back his chakra—she wanted to save him, not have him escape. With a frustrated snarl she tugged at the rope, infusing wind chakra into her arms, but it just wouldn't cut. The ropes binding prisoners were usually chakra-resistant. This one proved to be no exception.

She was about to try again, when the hooks anchoring the tent came undone. For a brief moment the fabric still held out, then it was blown away as the full force of the wind hit it. The crates were thrown around; the fabric scattered.

Now, for the first time, Naruto saw the incoming storm. The expression of awe on his face froze. When he turned his head back to her, she almost stopped working on the ropes, seeing that he looked _happy_.

"You should go, you know?" he shouted over the noise of the wind. "This, whatever the hell it is, will hit us in a minute."

Shut up, shut up, shut up. If she failed here she would be weak again. If she didn't at least try, she felt she wouldn't ever be able to look Gaara in the eye.

The moment in which she could still have left and made it out passed by.

Why weren't these bindings coming loose? She growled, punching the pole in frustration. A soft crack, barely audible in all the noise, followed.

"Punch it again!" Naruto's voice snapped her out of her momentary stillness. He was looking at her with wide eyes. "Again. Hit it again!"

So she did. The pole made the same groaning noise, and when she was about to unleash another punch, Naruto said, "Use your fan! The point above the rope."

Taking her fan from her shoulder, she smashed it against the pole. Once, twice. By attempt number three it cracked under the force, and when she hammered it a fourth time, the upper part of the pole broke off and toppled into the sand.

Her breath going hard, she watched Naruto as he slid the rope up the wood until he finally managed to pull it over the top.

Temari's first instinct was to smile at having succeeded. Then she saw the storm, which was only seconds away, and all her previous determination evaporated.

 _I will die._

 _I will die._

 _I…_

* * *

To anyone who asked, Naruto would freely admit that this storm was the largest thing he had ever seen barring the mountain ranges, and even those might not compare. Up close it looked exactly as dangerous as he had thought it would. A towering wall of sand blotching out the sun, pushing onward, no matter what, or who stood in its way.

His eyes swiveled from the monstrosity to Temari—his captor and, coincidentally, also his liberator—who had sunken to her knees and was staring at the storm as if she had only a few seconds more to live. And technically that was true, because he doubted that alone she'd stand a chance against that onslaught of billowing sand clouds.

The thought that she had been willing to sacrifice herself to rescue him—though the reason escaped him—sent a warm, tingling sensation spreading in his chest and stomach.

Five seconds till the storm would hit.

More than enough time.

He threw himself on Temari, pressing her to the ground, his whole body weighing against hers. And he thanked his lucky stars that he was quite a bit taller now than when he had started this shinobi gig, now able to cover her almost completely.

"What—"

"Keep your head down." He grinned at her—some bravado never hurt, and he certainly had things to be happy about for once. It was a surreal combination of emotion circling his body.

 _Never knew I could be happy and afraid at the same time._

Beneath Naruto, Temari was still struggling, but his grip was firm enough to keep her in place. She didn't understand and he tried to calm her with a smile. Futile, but there wasn't much else he could do right now.

When, at last, the storm came for them, the threat of swallowing them whole behind every inch it moved farther, Naruto lost his smile as quickly as it had come. Pain. So much of it, as if little rusty knives were scraping over his backside repeatedly. The first blood trailed over shredded skin.

Naruto bit back the scream building in his throat. He had closed one eye; the other was narrowed to a fine slit—a small, blurry window to the world. If he weren't hurting all over, he would have laughed at Temari's face. She understood now, and her expression was almost comical in its befuddlement.

The storm raged on.

How long had it been since the flesh on his back began to tear away? Somewhere along the line Temari had begun to exude wind chakra, keeping it like a dome above their heads. He knew from his own exploits with shape manipulation that this was burning chakra in ridiculous amounts.

He leaned a bit closer; Temari adjusted the dome, making it smaller. Their heads were close enough that the blood trailing from his brow down to his nose was dripping on her chin now, where it left a bloody smear as it slowly moved along her throat.

Almost poetic, and if it continued he'd bleed out before this whole thing blew over.

The pain became too much to do anything else but hold out. When was this thing ending? It couldn't be that long anymore…He felt his mind go fuzzy, and all thoughts but one ground to a halt. Pain. There was just so much of it…A scream thundered in his head and before long he noticed that, much like the bell earlier, it wasn't just in his head. He was screaming at Temari's face while the sand stole his flesh, pound by pound.

At length, the one component missing came—a subtle suggestion, a bit more than just passive healing to entice him. The temptation of being free of pain, or if not free completely, then dulled to it at least. A thread of chakra, red and—until he gave in—weak.

The insidious nature of the offer wasn't lost on Naruto. The Kyuubi was mocking him, again. That son of a bitch was milking this chance for all it was worth, had done so since he got captured.

And for a second Naruto considered taking him up on it. The sand continued to ground into his bloody back, hollowing out his body. Ending this agony seemed a pretty good deal, no matter the price.

Then he remembered the blurry form of Temari under him. She had been afraid of him, of the damn Bijū in his gut, and still she came, had won against her issues when it mattered. And if he knew anything, then that he'd be unable to look into the mirror if he gave up again.

Fuck pain. And fuck the Kyuubi, too. If Temari had been able to manage, he could do it as well. A laugh pressed its way through his screams, and Temari looked up at him as if he was insane.

Maybe he was.

But no matter what, the Bijū in his gut would go empty today.

 _I don't know if you can hear this, you feckless piece of shit,_ he thought savagely, _but if you can, remember: I'll get you. And when I do, I'll pay you back for all of your services. That's a promise_.

As if on command, the passive healing that had pervaded his body even in the worst times was dialed down and became almost absent.

Naruto grinned through the pain. He had been heard then…good.

With the last bit of healing and relief gone, the pain mounted and smashed through every threshold he ever knew.

 _Not today_.

Naruto held on, endured, didn't beg and didn't plead.

Because that's what being a shinobi meant.

* * *

 **AN:** My thanks to the DLP crew and to everyone who takes the time to read this story. Anyway, that's it for now, and I'm quite interested in what you're thinking so far.


	10. Crossed VII

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Crossed – VII**

* * *

" _Sometimes the sins you haven't committed are all you have to hold onto._ "

* * *

Waking up, the first noise he heard was periodic clinking. Naruto lay on his stomach, something soft pressing against his navel. He could feel it even through the constrictions. When he opened his eyes a stab of light forced him to shut them again.

A second time, more carefully, getting accustomed to the brightness until he could assess his situation. From his shoulders to his legs, his body was bandaged—the restraints, he recognized. He was lying on an elevated straw cot, a ragged blanket under his belly. The scent of garlic, onions and thyme wafted over. Content, he lowered his face, nuzzling the blanket, and even though it seemed silly, to feel something like this for the first time in months filled him with a tingling sense of pleasure.

Then, belatedly, his brain made the connections. Piece by piece, the events leading up to this moment came to the fore, multiple implications along for the ride.

Naruto craned his neck toward the source of the smells, but as he did, a spasm of pain shot through his back. Right, he had played the protection blanket against a sandstorm. _And the bastard fox is still stingy, as expected. But if you don't want to work, you don't have to, Kyuubi. No skin off my back._

One day there would be a reckoning between Jinchūriki and Bijū. When that day came, he'd make sure to come out on top.

A splashing noise brought him back to the present. Naruto tried to move his head again, just a few inches. It hurt, but was nothing that couldn't be dealt with.

He was in a mud hut, a rather spacious one with half its roof missing, or hanging inside. A smashed shelf sat against the wall; a piece of cloth was draped over the crumbling entrance. In the corner leaned a battle fan, folded.

Attention jumping, he found Temari in the middle of the hut. She stood bowed over a hearth, ladle in hand, stirring the insides of a pot hanging from wooden stakes to either side of it.

Naruto watched her backside as she worked, trying to order his thoughts.

Temari was here, a rebel. The prior-felt freedom was well on its way to evaporating. But, he reminded himself, Temari wasn't like other rebels. She certainly was nothing like Ren or Fatso. She had freed him from that pole, giving up her own safety to give him a chance at survival, all while knowing that he was a Jinchūriki. Now she had brought him here, wherever here was, and had bandaged him.

On the other hand, she was also his captor. Or had been, at least. The important question was: would she still be? Mangled as he was, Naruto wouldn't trust himself with protecting sand, let alone himself. What if—

A wave of pain scrambled his thoughts. The thunder in his head was real, as if his brain tried to escape, smashing itself against his skull. He clenched his teeth, but couldn't stop the groan from escaping.

Temari turned, saying, "You're awake!" She threw the ladle into the pot, darting over to him and squatting beside the cot.

Naruto felt his facial muscles pull into a grimace. He tried to move his hand to his head, but Temari, seeing the twitch in his shoulder, stopped him before he even made it an inch.

"You shouldn't move," she said. "It's barely been two days."

He wanted to scream, 'I don't want to,' as the thunder swelled further, before receding abruptly, vanishing as quickly as it had come.

As if the headache had gone hand in hand with a fever, he was sweating all over. In Temari's eyes though he found nothing alarming beyond a general concern born from the belief that this had been due to his normal injuries.

But this hadn't been normal. No way. The storm had abraded his skin like he was one of Komon's jewel rings, but it hadn't touched his head.

"I…" His voice was throaty, broken, and he abandoned speaking the moment the first syllable passed his lips.

Temari went over to the shelf, then returned with a bottle of water. He turned under pain on his side, the full way he did not manage. When she held the bottle to his mouth Naruto recognized that, aside from the thirst, he was also incredibly hungry, and that pondering the sudden pain had to come after he had eaten. Dry throat duly wetted, he asked what came to mind first: "Food?"

"Demanding, are we?"

She smiled relieved, filling a chipped bowl with soup. Same old procedure, then. At least they had practice. After being fed he asked her what had happened.

"I carried you here," she said. "We're in Ajia. Small village. Probably one of the last few with food."

Listening, belly filled, he grew drowsy. At least the tiredness was normal. He managed to draw his brows into a frown, and Temari deciphered his expression with the expert abilities of an educated kunoichi.

"The storm," she said, setting down the bowl, then supporting herself with her arms while leaning back. "It wasn't just the camp. I only heard what the people at the market were saying, but that thing crossed all of Wind Country. What little crops we had are probably shredded to pieces. A lot of the livestock died as well. Ajia is close to River Country though. They've always relied more on them than us for their food."

A groan built in Naruto's throat. Food shortage in a desert country? He could see that go well with Danzō's plans, really. Somehow, the thought of Danzō breaking one or two of his canes in anger amused him.

Smiling wasn't appropriate at this moment, so he kept it buried. He was too tired to laugh anyway, no danger there. Temari continued to talk about the storm—there had been one like this before, under her father's reign. Back then, the short term consequences were bad, but the long term issues were catastrophic. That towering mass of sand whirled a lot of stuff through the air—Temari named sulfur and heavy metals, though he couldn't really do anything with those terms—and researchers found that it led to a lot of bad things for a lot of good people. Unpleasant things like fevers, strenuous breathing, coughing—They eventually called it the Dust Sickness.

An apt term, as far as Naruto was concerned. That something like this could happen to a whole population was sickening, and a sudden appreciation for his own country filled him at the thought. Illness existed there too, of course, but not in such a scope.

She continued to talk about it, and he listened until he lacked the strength to do even that, Temari's voice lulling him into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Over the next few days Naruto woke frequently, though only for a few minutes at best. Memories and details of when he was awake were fuzzy. He always tired quickly, and for the first time learned how normal people felt after an injury. The consequence of his defiance. But if he had to do it again, he would.

Nausea overwhelmed him just at the thought of standing up, so he couldn't move about just yet. His thighs seemed to be in working condition, but the same couldn't be said about his calves. For reasons not quite clear to him the sandstorm had torn into them with far more viciousness than the rest of his legs. Not as much as into his back though. That part was by far the worst.

But aside from the injuries, Temari was always there when he woke.

She shared with him gossip from the market—that Aho really sold his apples at an unreasonable price. Hang him!—and the surprising information that the old Daimyo had been killed, which she seemed genuinely upset about. The man had been nice, she said, and a good leader, just misguided in the eyes of a lot of rebels. The deed was attributed to two Konoha-nin, who, on closer description, sounded remarkably like his teammates. He kept himself from saying that, only noting that it sounded strange for Konoha to kill him, since they'd had a good relationship with him. Then, the topic silently but unanimously declared as being too dicey, they changed the subject.

Again, Temari spoke, and he listened. And when he wasn't too tired, he talked a bit as well, but not much. Both knew that they were talking circles around the actual issue, but he felt too beat up for a serious conversation, and she, mirroring the sentiment, avoided anything that could be connected to it.

It was nice, in a sense. Speaking with her was, for the first time, _free_. He wasn't bound anymore—so far, he amended—and, surprisingly, when the weight of being a prisoner fell away, he found himself much more agreeable.

Unfortunately, the splitting headache was back, too. That day it came in a sudden burst. Naruto bit his tongue to keep the scream in, and Temari, cleaning her fan of dust, never learned of it.

The pain left a jumbled mess of incoherent thoughts in its wake.

* * *

From atop a dune, the survivors of his group behind him, Rōshi surveyed the village two miles south. A week ago they had made it through the forest at last, though with far heavier casualties than expected. Beside him and Daichi only a handful of Iwa-nin were still alive, the others had been blown to smithereens by the exploding tags or incinerated and speared by the traps strewn all over.

Now though the fun could begin. "Our first target, guys," he said, a grin lifting the corners of his mouth. The shinobi perked up, as did Daichi. "Look at that," Rōshi continued, pointing at the village. It lay nestled between a chain of smaller mountains, which were looking like ants in comparison to the Sweeping Mountains farther west. "We couldn't have asked for a better spot to start."

His apprentice stared at the village, then at him. "Why?"

 _Oh ye Gods_.

Rōshi laughed, his chest heaving up and down as it grew louder. "They teach you a lot of useless trivia these days, but listen up: this one's important. The caverns in these mountains are the best breeding ground you can find for Rakaji."

Everyone beside Daichi got it. Well, there was always time for a quick lesson in the finer arts. "Rakaji, stupid but willing apprentice, are mushrooms. But not just any mushrooms. Juice them and you got the ultimate ingredient to refine sake. Never heard of Rakaji sake?"

Daichi tilted his head.

"All that youth's wasted on you, boy. Heavenly, let me tell you. And expensive. More than you'd imagine. These beautiful mushrooms only grow in the spring caverns of Wind Country, God knows why."

"So what? It's stealing liquor. That's not how you mess up a country."

"You've never been in a war, son, so I forgive you," Rōshi said. "What an army needs to succeed is good morale. How do people get motivated? When they have something to work for, something tangible. A reward for all their sweat and blood. Now, some do it for their country. A fair few actually. But most others need something else, something concrete. Nothing nebulous like honor, pride, or nationality, or whatever the hell you want to substitute for those. In the end, they're nice sentiments, nothing more.

"So, how do you reward them? Money. But you don't have much time to go shopping in a war. Pleasure, then?" Rōshi leaned in, wagging his eyebrows. "Certainly that. It's not just a reward, it can also dull the pain. What brings pleasure? A woman? A man?" He paused. "An animal? Maybe, depends on whom you're asking. But what about—"

"I got your point," Daichi said. The animal part had made him queasy.

"Good," Rōshi said, amused. "It might seem small at first, but take the booze from any army and the soldiers will start to get cross. It's how we're wired. Always out to fight, fuck, and drink."

"What comes next?"

"Whatever we find, son. Food. Water. Precious goods…We're not here to fight Konoha head on. We're here to make it as hard as possible for them to stay. That's our job. Nothing else. So strap in, lads, because this will be one hell of a ride." Directing his gaze back to the village, he said, "And it'll be a fun ride for once—enjoy it. I can't say that duty and fun mix often."

"Mhh?"

"Seems as though they combined the places where they juice the Rakaji and the place where they apply the juice to the sake. Damn sand dwellers. You got to love their economic efficiency. Before we destroy the rest, we'll make sure to get us one big ol' barrel."

As it would later turn out, the mushroom caves were untended. The distillery was destroyed, the warehouses empty, the houses uninhabited. Not a drop of Rakaji in sight, and everywhere it looked as if the place had been abandoned in great haste. Not just yesterday though, but possibly weeks ago. Rōshi first assumed that it had been Konoha, then the rebels, before admitting to himself that he had no clue about what happened. Both parties were unlikely to have left behind any hints, and so _he_ was left wondering, groaning about a perfectly fine speech wasted on nothing but sand and dust.

* * *

Gripping Temari's arm, Naruto set one foot after another, slowly crossing the hut. When he reached the wall across, knees buckling, she steadied him before he hit the floor.

"Careful," she said.

He nodded in thanks while trying to move in a position in which he didn't have to lean on her. The helplessness was frustrating, most of all to someone who, according to Temari, still recovered unnaturally quick, but to whom it felt like eons.

 _At least the pain's gone_ , he thought, muttering, "Thanks," as Temari helped him over to the bed. He let himself fall back, his chest slowing in its constant heaving as he controlled his breathing. If only the exhaustion weren't so bad. It seemed as if he couldn't even walk for more than a few minutes without collapsing, covered in sweat.

Temari didn't reply, instead sliding to the ground, her back to the bed, head reclined, leaning against the left half of his bandaged stomach. Through the broken roof, the sun shone on Naruto's face. Shading his eyes, he listened to the rustling Acacia outside, a gust of wind sweeping by.

Minutes later, when he woke from a small nap, the exhaustion ebbing away, they began to talk, just like always these past days. The topics ranged from the seed fruits in River Country to stories about Kankuro, and how, back then, he had often looked more at home with a Kabuki ensemble than with the shinobi corps. He always said his facial painting was war paint, but he only started applying it _after_ coming to a play with her, back when they had visited Ike with their minder.

Conversations of this kind offered a sense of normalcy that had been absent in his life as of late. A normalcy that, given the situation and its point of origin, shouldn't exist. But with him regaining his strength, the talks couldn't last much longer anyway. The thought sent a dissatisfied rumble through his body.

In another world, Temari was a person he would have liked to get to know under better circumstances. But that was wishing for the impossible, and soothing as the flight from reality was at times, eventually it always led to a dead end when running stopped being an option. Time couldn't be reversed. Once he reached the point when he could travel on his own again, their paths would diverge, both moving in opposite directions. And although that thought saddened him, there was also a fierce longing to see his teammates again, a hope that made the whole issue bearable; God, it had been _months_ since he last saw their faces.

Temari knew that just as well. More than him, perhaps, she had enjoyed this brief lull in which they hadn't concerned themselves with the outside world and the problems therein.

"…and then she went up to him, asking where the next play would take place." Temari laughed. "I don't think I ever saw someone as scared as that girl when he turned around and explained—quite in detail, too—that it was war paint. She certainly looked afraid enough of him, even if he looked nothing like a warrior."

Naruto cracked a smile, though his thoughts went in a different direction. He lifted his head, peering at her. She had stretched out her legs and was staring aimlessly at the corner, a content grin playing on her lips.

In the truest sense, this was a Genjutsu—the peaceful surroundings lulling them into complacency, keeping them inside this very real illusion. But no Genjutsu lasted forever, and sooner or later this one, too, would break.

"He was always—"

"Temari." Better to dispel the illusion on his terms.

She stopped talking, understanding entering her eyes when she heard the tone of his voice. "Yes…" A statement, not a question.

Reality came calling.

"Why did you do it?" Naruto asked. "The storm could've killed you. Why risk it?"

"I love you."

"Bullshit."

Temari sighed. "Why did you save me, then? The moment you were free you could've fled. You didn't have to shield me. You did. Why?" She paused, and Naruto waited. "It was a spur of the moment thing," she continued. "There were factors playing into it, of course. But it certainly wasn't well-planned, or even all that logical. If I had to specify… I'd say it was me being over-confident and challenging myself."

"To outrun that storm?"

"The storm wasn't the challenge, Naruto," she said. "You were. Learning that you're a Jinchūriki, my reaction to that…I'm not proud of it. Gaara's the same, and the idea that still, after all this, I'd react like—" She took a deep breath. "How could I be his big sister if I couldn't even manage to work with you?"

The truth, then.

 _Well, I asked for it_ , Naruto thought, wincing internally. "So basically I'm a Jinchūriki test subject."

"That sounds bad…"

"I know."

"Besides," Temari said, "I doubt I'd have bothered if I couldn't stand you at all. As I said, there were multiple factors."

"I can live with that, I guess." And he could, really, because having it out in the open at last felt good.

"What about you?"

"No way I could have run. I'm a Jinchūriki, not a Bijū. There's a subtle difference." Her eyebrow twitched, and he snorted. Then she reached out and gave him a light slap on his chest.

"Ass."

"I aim to please. It wasn't much of a stretch." He thought on how to bring out the next words, then decided to state them bluntly. No need to sugar coat it if they were breaking out the truth anyway. "You brought me to that shithole, Temari. And I resent you for that, probably always will. But in there you brought me food. You kept me company. You kept me sane, if only because I saw something vastly more attractive than Fatso and that asswipe, Ren. I would've gone off the rails completely if those bastards had been all I'd seen.

"Then you saved me. You came back. Fuck, if anything that's the important part. You," he said, "came back. All I saw was that, whatever the cause, someone who learned of the fox came back after running away, and saved me. That's all that mattered to me, nothing more."

After a pause, Naruto spoke again, "What will you do now? You can come with me to Suna, but I doubt that's what you planned."

"Could you protect me there, from torture?"

 _Oh, the irony_.

One thought of Danzō was enough. "No," he said.

"Then I won't. Besides, I still got another brother to worry about. If you told the truth, then Gaara isn't in any danger. Kankuro is. I'll get back to him, and make sure he's getting out of this alive."

"What will you tell them?"

She shrugged. "I tried to save a resource, got cocky, but somehow survived, and then returned once I healed up. It's better to keep things simple."

Easier to not get entangled in your own lies, perhaps, but far _too_ simple. Naruto doubted it would work that easily. He had no idea if she harbored any thoughts at all of bringing him back as exchange currency—he hoped not—but it was better to clear up the situation right from the beginning.

"If you try to bring me back in, I will kill you," Naruto said. He didn't know how, but he would give it his best shot, no matter what was happening right now.

Temari didn't even narrow her eyes in response. "Figured as much," she said. Then she grinned at him. "I lost my resource in the storm. Accidents happen. They'll be too happy to have one of their 'symbols' back to ask for details."

"A resource, eh?" Naruto chuckled. "I've been called nicer things before."

They lapsed into silence after that, Temari holding eye contact without blinking. The tension from before shifted away from the morbid discussion about death and changed to something he couldn't quite grasp. There was a strange hardness in his chest as he looked back.

Then she moved her head, lifting it from his stomach, for a moment appearing undecided, before giving a miniscule shake of her head and rising to prepare their next meal. Just like that, the tension evaporated.

* * *

Sasuke sat on the fountain in Chiyo's yard, several blue-lined scrolls stacked in a small pyramid beside his feet. He tapped a finger against his arm, waiting for the hag to sense him and come out. She was extremely chakra sensitive, otherwise he would never have asked her for help in the first place.

The door to the house opened, and her equally hoary brother peeked out with a grin stretching his cracked face, revealing yellow teeth and a lot of holes. "Nee-chan!" he called inside the house. "The boy's back!"

"I know, I know."

Chiyo's brother winked at Sasuke before vanishing back inside. Shortly after, Chiyo ambled through the entrance, hair up in a bun of gray yarn as usual. "Still alive, eh?" The grin, like her brother's, offered a similar insight into the disturbing landscape of her teeth. "Didn't expect ya to come back. The desert's a dangerous place. Had fun?"

Sasuke grunted.

"Not in a talking mood? No matter!" She cackled and leaned down to the scrolls, picking them up one by one. "That's more than agreed," she said after deliberating the cargo in her hands. "You tryin' to pull something?"

Perceptive. Expected though from a shinobi who had lived that long. "I'll be away for a few weeks," Sasuke said. He nodded at the scrolls. "There's enough for two months." His demand, unvoiced, went along with that statement. He knew she'd understand.

"Oh? Setting out again so soon?" Sighing theatrically, she put the back of her hand to her forehead. "What's 'n old lady like me to do, abandoned by her youthful lover?"

For a second Sasuke's eyes widened, then they narrowed to fine slits. Noticing, Chiyo chortled, and Sasuke chided himself for the momentary loss of control.

 _Old shrew_.

"Now, boy, don't think such favorable thoughts of me, aye?"

 _Mindreading old shrew_ , he amended.

She began to say a lot of other, useless things and Sasuke waited for her gibbering to die down. It did eventually, if only after what seemed like an eternity, and Chiyo bit her thumb, smearing blood over the seamed skin of her arm. A cloud of smoke revealed a large scroll unfurling itself. Sasuke could make neither heads nor tails of the squiggles and circles plastered all over it. Though the thought that Naruto might understand if he were here stung.

Work done, Chiyo resealed the scroll and then chucked a book at him. "Treat it carefully, will ya?"

He nodded, securing the book in his jacket, then turned to leave.

"Take care, boy, eh?"

Another grunt. Sasuke was past the gate to her yard when he heard the door to the house falling shut.

* * *

Sasuke made his way through the rebuilt village, passing by a crew of construction workers carrying wooden planks and buckets of clay. They followed a slow-moving cart transporting a pile of bricks. His path led him through the streets of the red district. The girls waved and called but he ignored them, marching past the gates, and from there moving to the tent he shared with Sakura.

Inside, emergency clothes, food rations and water, weapons and bandages went into the burlap sack he held while scouring the tent for useful items. Just about to seal the sack in a prepared scroll, he heard Sakura enter behind him.

"Hey, you're back already, I—"

She paused. There was a sharp intake of breath. Sasuke paced through the hand seals for activating the scroll, but in the middle of the change from Hare to Tiger, Sakura's hand closed around his arm.

"Sasuke…"

"I'm going," he said. "I'll find him."

"Danzō will—"

"I don't care about Danzō." He lowered his hands, turning. Sakura had that look about her that said she didn't know what to do. Last time he'd seen it when she convinced him to deliver Iho. "This isn't going to work if we don't do it ourselves," he said. "Months, Sakura, of what Kakashi went through. If we broke the rules to save him, then there is nothing to hold us back from doing the same for Naruto." He grabbed her shoulder. "The situation has changed. We did what we could to save the pacification. It isn't in our hands anymore."

For a time he wasn't sure whether she understood him. Her look was fixed on a place behind him, but her mind seemed on its way to farther regions. Then, however, her expression grew sharp.

And he realized that she had finally remembered what Team Seven was about.

"At night," she said, "a few hours at most."

"We should start in—"

"Shishi," she completed before he had the chance. "It's the closest to the ambush site. I doubt we'll find him there but it's a start. That's all we have."

"And it is worth nothing because our spies already searched there." At the familiar voice Sasuke reacted on instinct, sword sliding in his hand as he wheeled around.

Seeing Danzō stand in the corner of the tent, both hands resting on the head of his cane, he lowered the sword slightly.

"Stand down," Danzō said, calm.

How much had the man heard of their conversation? All of it, probably. But why hadn't they noticed him? Sasuke gripped the hilt tighter, but kept the blade pointing to the ground. Then he suddenly saw his sword running Sakura through. Genjutsu. He stopped the flow of chakra before flooding his tenketsu abruptly. When the illusion shattered, Sakura was still standing beside him, unharmed, expression furious and two knives in her hands.

"I told you to _stand down_ ," Danzō said. "You are capable," he continued, "but you have neither the strength nor the experience to challenge me. You're not so invaluable that I wouldn't kill you for treason."

Sasuke wanted to call his bluff, but his attention flickered to Sakura. He might be the last Uchiha, but she was another matter. As the daughter of a civilian—an influential one perhaps, but still a civilian—Sakura had none of his protections. He sheathed his sword and put a hand on her arm, and she returned the knives to the holster at her leg.

"Follow me," Danzō said.

They did, reluctantly, and Danzō led them on a slow walk through the camp. The sun was high, and if the shinobi out and about found it unusual for them to come through behind the commander they didn't show it. Only Kiba raised an eyebrow when they passed him and Sakura waved him off quickly. He returned to cleaning his kunai with a shrug.

Soon they were tramping through the desert. Would Danzō kill them outside? But that made no sense, as they had just been paraded through the camp in front of everyone's eyes. There were less complicated ways to get rid of someone. He was sure Danzō knew them well enough.

Camp a few paces behind them Danzō flickered to the next dune and from there to yet another. Sasuke and Sakura sped up to close the distance, but only managed it after Danzō stopped. Suna's walls were far on the horizon.

Danzō stood on a dune, sun framing his hunched body, the rest of him drenched in shadow. "Rule twenty-one, Haruno."

The words sprung to Sasuke's mind, even before Sakura answered. He had learned that useless code front to back in the academy.

"A shinobi must never show weakness," Sakura said.

"Correct." Danzō pinned Sasuke with a stare. "Tell me how you failed, Uchiha."

 _What are you up to?_ Sasuke thought. _I don't believe for a second that this is to educate us._

Danzō flickered in front of him, and though Sasuke was taller than him he had to keep himself from stepping back. A few inches separated them. Enough space for a kunai to fit before it slid into either of their guts.

"Let me tell you, Uchiha Sasuke, how you failed." He stepped even closer. "You showed me that your teammate is your weakness. You showed me that your rage is more than enough to blind you, despite your vaunted heritage. In short, Uchiha Sasuke, you showed me that whoever has your teammate can control you, whether you notice it or not."

"A shinobi must never show weakness!" Danzō thundered. Then, more calm, he said, "Neither to his enemies nor to his allies."

Sasuke felt a sudden spike of chakra going out from Danzō. He tracked it to the man's palm lying flat on the handle of his cane. A second pulse followed, and the wood shimmered out of existence, replaced by hard steel.

Sasuke had suspected a weapon in the cane, but to see it in action was different. Sakura and him jumped back, giving themselves space. Danzō shuffled forward in a slow gait, sword at his side, one arm still in a sling.

"Show me your rage, then. And in return I will show you what is waiting for you were you to meet Senyaku again, and without interference."

* * *

Much later Danzō brought them back to their tent. He was sweating, bleeding lightly, but still composed. They sunk to the floor, incapable of standing up on their own. Before he left, Danzō graced them with a look full of contempt.

"If this is the limit to your abilities, then it is good that I intervened. Even if you were to find Uzumaki's whereabouts, you would not be able to free him."

He left before Sasuke could reply, hard as it would have been since every part of him hurt. Chest, arms, legs—all had been sliced in multiple places. Engulfed in flames, it seemed, his body burned at places where the wind bullets had shredded his skin. Though the wounds weren't the troubling part, he could endure those. The knowledge that Danzō had been right, that they'd fail against a shinobi of his caliber, was worse. Together they might be able to take on a Jōnin, but Senyaku was more than that. Even with Naruto the chances were low, and that stung.

He bit his lip to keep from screaming while crawling over to Sakura, whose breath was shallow. Dredging up the last bit of chakra inside him, he put his hand on her chest and tried to heal her. Before he saw any result, however, he lost consciousness.

* * *

It was evening in Ajia. Temari had gone to the market to buy chili powder, mango and pineapple for their last meal, and Naruto sat alone in the hut. Tomorrow they would go separate ways, soon standing on opposite sides again.

He slapped his cheeks lightly, then, muttering "Time to get to work," moved into a handstand and began to push himself up and down, slowly at first, before gaining speed. His muscles listened. Until he had lost that ability, he never knew how good that felt.

From the handstand he slid into an offensive stance, working his way through basic moves he had picked up observing Kakashi, Jiraiya and—loath he was to admit it—Sasuke. A jumbled mess of attack patterns that did its job just fine. Satisfied with the result he slowed. Much better.

Later, back on the bed, he looked at Temari's war fan leaning against the shelf. Today was the last chance, he told himself. Now that she was away he could still do it. He clenched his fists. This wasn't right, and yet it was what he would do in the end, because the alternative would be to do nothing and let this war drag on.

Standing up he went over to the fan. Three years ago he would have waved goodbye when they parted, never wasting a single thought on gaining an advantage. Considering the numbness in his gut, in moments like this he wished to have never lost that innocence. Impossible remained just that, though. And brushing his fingertips over the fan's metal butt he thought that human nature had a way of making sure liars and assassins would never find peace.

Temari had miscalculated.

Against the weight of a country, a single bond of trust was nothing, or so Danzō would say.

Naruto didn't subscribe to his playbook, but that sentence fit as well as any other. If he could end this war earlier, could save one more shinobi from suffering through the same as him, could bring Team Seven out of this desert grave, he'd do it.

Inspecting the fan he bit his thumb, dipped the nail of his right index finger into the blood, and drew a tiny array on the inside, right near the hilt. Observations had told him that she rarely paid attention to the fabric itself, rather polishing the hilt when caring for her fan.

Seals that weren't anchored directly to the soul or the mind required their ink symbols to keep them bound to the object they modified. Basic sealing had been all that the rebels knew, and for all the hurt the sandstorm dished out, Naruto still was thankful for the braising force behind it, which sheared the skin right off his back. Now, however distasteful, he could apply a tracking seal to end this madness.

He had told Temari that he'd kill her if she tried to take him prisoner again. With his chakra back, those hadn't been empty words. And that, he mused, putting the fan back in place, was the nature of their fucked up relationship. A friendship that could have been something else, perhaps an honest one to start with, but never reached its full potential because the war screwed them over, and friendship between enemies existed only in fairy tales.

* * *

Temari's good mood in the evening had made things worse. Laughing and telling cheerful stories while having broken her trust just an hour earlier, looking at her while she prepared the food and hearing her say that, should both be alive at the end of this war, they had to meet up again, made him wish fiercely for the morning to come as early as possible, so they could say their goodbyes and be on their different ways.

Naruto chased those thoughts away. Soon he'd be back where he belonged. And then he would end this war, if possible before Temari died in it. He slid into his pants and Temari stretched her arms, groaning as sunlight broke through the roof and met her face.

"It's time," Naruto said.

"Too early…"

"It'll always be too early for you." He picked up her battle kimono and lobbed it at her.

In short order they readied themselves for their respective travels, then left the hut for Ajia's market to get the last supplies and fresh water.

"You know, I'll miss this," Temari said as they walked. "It's been nice, I guess. Peaceful."

He hummed in agreement, but didn't say anything. After yesterday it didn't feel right to talk. If she ever found out about it, she'd probably regret not having killed him back in the desert.

They continued in silence until they rounded the last corner that would lead them to the market place. Naruto, there for the first time, surveyed the area. And seeing something that he had hoped to avoid for a long time yet, he felt his pulse immediately breaking thresholds. He grabbed Temari's wrist, jerking her back behind the corner.

"We need to leave. Now." He couldn't hide the panic in his voice.

"Why?"

"Do you trust me?"

She nodded hesitantly.

"Then follow me. We need to get away from here without being noticed. No chakra until we're in the desert."

"What about the supplies?"

"Screw the supplies," he said. "We can do jack with them if we're dead."

Death was a curious word. It always served to motivate people. Temari snapped to attention and they moved away from Ajia as inconspicuously as possible. Once they reached the desert, Temari demanded an explanation.

He readily gave it. "Did you notice anything weird on the market? Someone with unusual clothes?"

"I didn't think too much about it. My people can be pretty eccentric with their attire."

"Not that much," Naruto said, emphasizing his point with a wide gesture. "There's only one group wearing black cloaks with red clouds. And if you see them, you run. No question asked, you run."

She didn't seem convinced, so he continued. "Akatsuki. That's their name. And guess what, they're hunting Jinchūriki."

He had no clue who that had been—a strange lady with blond hair—but damn if he wanted to find out. That gal should stay the hell away from him.

"They hunt…" She stocked in her speech. "Are you serious? How do you—"

"I met two of them already. Uchiha Itachi, does the name ring a bell?"

It did. Her face paled. "They're…"

"Hunting people like Gaara and me, yes. And they've got the strength to back up their plan. I tell you, Temari. If you see them, you run, nothing else."

"I will."

And after dropping the elder Uchiha's name, she definitely looked the part of the voice of truth.

She had more questions, but aside from his own experience with them, his knowledge on that group was lacking, and after answering the last five queries with "I can't say" and "No clue" they lapsed into silence.

This, he realized, was the moment. His muscles tensed though he tried not to show any overt reaction.

If she decided to take him, this would be it.

She didn't.

A wistful smile wormed itself across Temari's lips. "I guess this is it," she said. "Next time we meet we'll be enemies again."

He nodded. "Seems that way."

Apparently she too thought it better not to draw this out any longer. She gave him a wave, then turned around and leaped west in large jumps. He waited until she left his vision, then turned north to make his way to Suna.

* * *

 **AN:** Hope you enjoyed it! There's not much to say, though I'm interested of course in what you're thinking about this chapter.


	11. Curved I

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Curved – I**

* * *

" _The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new._ "

* * *

Sakura clicked her finger against the bottle. As always, frustration manifested in its most common form, that of an old enemy, to make bad moments worse. Sometimes, like when the thought of comparative weakness drove her higher, it could be a friend. Today it was not. No, today the bellows sparking her stubborn streak remained still.

Faced with such abandonment she thought it only fair to abandon herself the problems of the world, or to try at least. Liquor helped. Though admittedly she had hoped for a stronger effect.

"I think you've had enough," Kiba said. He pried the bottle from her hand.

She disagreed, but he was the one who had procured the liquor in the first place, despite the recent plundering that left the camp dry. Deciding to keep peace, she settled on forgoing physical intervention and confronted him with her most dissatisfied stare. The tent had other plans, in that it drew circles around her when she moved her head. She quickly looked back down, focusing on her feet. Voice, then. It had to be spoken, because someone had to articulate a protest in such a situation.

Sakura slurred the first syllable and closed her mouth again. Smartest in the academy and now she couldn't string together an audible sentence. Iruka would be so proud of her. She grinned at her sandals, before remembering that she was dissatisfied.

Kiba laughed, which always sounded more like a bark. Sasuke wasn't any better. He didn't bark, but when she looked up under great pain he drunk from _her_ bottle, which now resided in _his_ hands. He was scowling. But when wasn't he? It was appropriately Sasuke to scowl, and belonged as much to his person as the Uchiha fan on his old shirts. This get-together at least seemed to ease the furrows in his brow.

Now, if only it would do the same for her.

Liquor, she concluded, pushed her through stages of self-pity. Not the sexiest of traits, but life's been unfair these last few years and now she thought about it like this, so what? The real problem was that the alcohol failed entirely in making her forget. Beneath the easygoing banter, Kiba's laughter, and Sasuke's typical stoicism still lay all the baggage they carried. The tautness around Sasuke's eyes when he glanced at Naruto's empty bedroll. Kiba's stare that reached far deeper into the bottle than even her own. All barely hidden, and then there was herself, with dark-bruised fans under her eyes that would make any Uchiha proud. She really was on her best way to become Sasuke's bride already.

Sakura mumbled something that was, in essence, nothing, but by the slight rise in intonation at the end could be construed as a question. Kiba understood anyway and tapped his empty bottle in response.

"Last one," he said, "then we're back to water."

She felt envy at the control he still had over his speech. Some had all the luck.

"I doubt Chief's going to request new stock from Konoha," he continued, crossing his arms behind his head. "Man, this sucks."

Sasuke grunted. "Chief?"

"Danzō."

Bad answer. Sakura had almost forgotten about him—for that much the liquor sufficed—and now he was back in full force, bandaged mug hovering in her mind like a bad dream.

Grim looks all around. Kiba shrugged. "I don't like his name. And Commander's too long for me. Chief's much simpler."

 _First grade Naruto reasoning_ , Sakura thought. _No wonder those two always got along well at the academy._

Sasuke said, "Too respectful."

"Listen, I understand you dislike—"

"Hate," Sakura said.

"Yes, hate. I get it. I don't like him either. But consider his position. Hokage-sama left him this steaming pile and now he has to make diamonds of it."

"You're defending him," Sasuke said.

Kiba, who had balanced a bottle on his flat palm, put it away. "He's a prick," he said, "but he holds this place together. I don't want to drink, well, even talk with him, but I respect him. That much I owe the jerk for keeping this operation going. I—"

Kiba stopped. His nose twitched and then a smile spread on his face, truer than any other he had shown for years now. All of a sudden he appeared infected to Sakura, with a relief that in her current state she found irritating without even knowing the cause. "Haven't you sensed it already, Sakura?"

She had, in fact, not. Though she hurried to rectify this and focused on extending her awareness. On the fourth attempt she managed, a pool of chakra catching her attention which hadn't been there before.

Vast and strong like the ocean. Most of all—alive. And just half a mile away from the camp.

Sakura lurched to her feet. The dizziness stopped mattering once she overcame the initial vertigo and her senses latched once more onto the walking sea of chakra.

"Sakura?"

Sasuke's voice was dulled, and Sakura's feet were already moving on their own, carrying her out of the tent.

* * *

When Sakura stormed out of the tent Sasuke got up seconds later. He grabbed his sword on the way out. Catching up to Sakura, Sasuke engaged the ability of chakra sensing available to him, thinking it quite ironic that the roles were reversed now. Years of specialized training and her control still dwarfed his. He tended to apply force where none was needed, using a sledgehammer when a small knife would have sufficed. Impatience lay at the root of this, he had recognized early on, but knowing that helped little. In the attempt to become more patient he had become the opposite upon seeing his weakness. You couldn't force patience. It was the absence of force. That bothered him.

Tents flew by. Kiba lagged slightly behind. In Konoha they had hailed Sasuke as a prodigy at the hospital. But he had only ever been compared to other aspirants, never to Sakura. That she preferred to destroy instead of heal kept his ego intact as much as it eviscerated her enemies.

Past a handful of Genin sitting around a campfire he sensed it as well and sped up.

They were out of the camp now, Sakura a few paces ahead, flying over the sand.

* * *

Naruto climbed the dune, tired, when the smell of alcohol reached him. Then came pink hair and a pair of arms wrapping around him, chasing away the momentary flashback to Fatso's garlic-and-booze breath and the beating that followed.

 _Sakura…_

Her body trembling against his, he stiffened at the close contact. She was mumbling into his shirt and it were the fragments of her voice that broke him out of his paralysis. He put his arms around her, taking it in, alcoholic smell and all, thinking, _God, I'm back_.

He said, "I'm fine, Sakura," but she wasn't deterred.

A minute went by. Sasuke and Kiba were standing four steps away. Sasuke regarded him with a smirk that shifted into a smile before returning to its old form, as though he failed for once to control his expression.

 _So that's what it takes to wipe away your frown, eh? Easy going, Uzumaki. That's the secret. I only had to get tortured. Now why haven't I thought of that before?_

When he tried to extricate himself from Sakura, abandoning the previous line of thought, her grip strengthened. He whispered, "You're going to break me," into her ear, and she let go reluctantly, smiling up at him.

"Took you long enough to come back," Sasuke said, holding out his fist.

Naruto bumped it with his own. "Missed me, did you?"

"Hardly."

And all was well.

* * *

At the southern gate to the camp, Sakura's former supervisor welcomed them, muscles flexing. Kiba excused himself with a murmured "Chin up, guys, what's the worst that could happen?" and speedily left for the gambling area.

"Danzō-sama wants to see you at once," the supervisor said.

Naruto looked at her with the trust four months of torture had instilled in him. The skin around her eyes tightened as she noticed Sakura's body leaning against his. Sakura still wasn't sober, but she could walk. Though they should probably stop her from talking too much.

Sasuke agreed and took over the negotiations from there. Halfway into the next minute it became apparent that several wars had been avoided when Sasuke chose to become a shinobi instead of a diplomat. The finesse of a block of granite, that one. The supervisor escorted them to Danzō even though she had looked perfectly happy just to inform them before.

Once they were left alone in front of the tent Naruto told Sasuke as much. Sasuke said nothing.

Inside, Danzō's attention was fixed on him and Naruto felt the early stages of nervousness advance. He kept from showing signs like biting his lip or eying the exit but the dryness in his mouth and the faint nausea he couldn't help.

The story he had to tell wasn't pretty. It wasn't glorious. And how it ended sure as hell wasn't good for the man's blood pressure. But it had to be told. If everything went according to plan, a substantial part of their future war efforts relied on it.

"Report," Danzō said.

So he did, telling him (and them) of the train of thought that had led to faking his team's death in order to save their lives. He worked in using the chop Danzō had taught him to knock them out. If the man approved couldn't be seen anywhere on his face though. Then came the part with the imprisonment, the torture, Temari and his dealings with her. He described to them the life in a deserted hut, and that final act of betrayal to cap it all off, feeling spent and tired in the end, more so than before. Reporting made vivid what he tried to forget. But he doubted Danzō would have accepted that excuse.

"How much information about our prisoner have you traded?"

"Mostly made up stories. A few truths to make it easier to remember. Nothing too important. I'll write up a list later."

Danzō offered a clipped nod, moving on. "You said she noticed nothing? That she now has an emotional attachment to you?"

"She thought my chakra was sealed and still let me go. I don't think someone she hated would've gotten the same treatment, especially if they hosted a Bijū."

"And how do _you_ feel, Uzumaki?"

That gave Naruto pause. Then he said, "What should I feel? I played to get an advantage and it worked. Making friends with a woman who was there when they nearly razed Konoha isn't my idea of a great time. Not to mention that she was the one who captured me. I'm not happy, but I'll survive. What's more important is how to use the tracking seal."

Danzō's stare always left you with the feeling of being pierced, as if he understood what you were thinking and weighed it against your words. Naruto had grown accustomed to it during his short tutelage under him. But scrutiny, more than the desert sun, heated the body and he felt himself sweat while returning the favor. Still, Ren had tried valiantly to make him look away in fear, without success. Danzō wouldn't manage with lesser tools. His presence alone lacked the impact of a bowl of heated coals and an unfurled bag of knives.

"The seal is valuable," Danzō said. "The Tree thanks you for your service."

Unexpected words followed by even stranger emotions. Paradoxical to say the least. A lumbering shame at the cause for the recognition, fortified by a slinking pleasure of the acknowledgement itself.

"How will we use it?" Naruto asked.

The Danzō he knew would not answer without being forced. But being the creator of a seal came with perks. Quite a bit of leeway actually since the array, squiggle for squiggle, was anchored to him.

Trust was an issue, of course. One that Danzō presently considered, and for that purpose him in particular it seemed. In such a situation, defection posed not much of a bonus, but still the odds were stacked in his favor. And while his commander weighed without a scale, an action that demanded attention, Naruto riposted the stare with his own, sinking himself into calculations of what the future would hold.

Tracking seals sent pulses of chakra to the creator, speeding them up to cover large distances and strengthening them in relation to the proximity of both points. Depending on the parameters used in the array, there existed a plethora of formulas to parse the strength of the signal into cardinal directions and measurable distance. A pulse at such and such strength would then become identifiable as "to the south, four miles" or "three steps to the left you will find your keys." Problematic was the required knowledge to apply such a formula, for the simple reason that he had none of it readily available. The seal worked well without. But in exchange for control and information of the situation, hitting the books seemed a minor setback.

Learning, then, was the plan for the near future. His attention returned to Danzō, who likewise emerged from his thoughts and began speaking in a measured tone. None of them had blinked and both had possibly made the impression of staring with fierce intensity, no subject beside the original issue ever crossing their minds.

"Once the locations are mapped out, we will begin our offensive," Danzō said. "Until that time you three will take up more responsibility as well. Specifics follow at a later date. Uzumaki, make sure to have a checkup at the hospital. In two days I will transfer the seal. Be here at dawn."

Right, he would—

Naruto's thoughts screeched to a halt but Danzō had already turned away, saying, "Dismissed," as he moved to his maps.

* * *

Outside, Naruto kicked against an empty barrel that toppled in response. Sasuke observed the action with interest, then told Naruto that this was an apt depiction of his might, an effort at humor for which he received a deep-set frown and silence. One of those were acceptable, but both at the same time spelled trouble. A frown followed by angry words cleared up the reasons easily, and silence without facial signs of discontent concerned itself either with issues irrelevant to Sasuke or thoughts that would be explained later anyway. Naruto was at times rather proud of even simplistic insights and liked to share them. Possibly a relic of different times, when attention was in rare supply and the sparse but wild sparks of intelligence—or if not that, then cleverness—netted him praise by the few who knew to appreciate it. Frown and silence conjoined however were another matter altogether.

"Is it true?" Sakura asked, the beginnings of an illusion weaving itself around them. Her technique had grown better again. "What you told Danzō, I mean."

"Which part?"

"All of it."

"To some extent," Naruto said. "Not all though."

"Temari?" asked Sasuke.

"A friend." Naruto spoke in a clipped manner. The reason, then.

"She made you a prisoner," Sakura said.

"Things happened," said Naruto. "She's not a bad person."

"Must have been quite a lot that happened," Sakura said.

"It was big alright."

They smiled at a night patrol passing by. When the torchlight dimmed Sasuke said, "You want to save her." He paused. "Even if you keep the seal the chances are slim."

"I know."

"Quite a lot, yes," Sakura said as they reached their tent. "Quite a lot…"

If Naruto knew everything there was nothing more to say and Sasuke kept quiet, observing his teammates. What they talked about wasn't as material to him as their presence. That would have to suffice for now.

* * *

Explosive power was the hallmark of Tsunade's punch. At a good angle it rendered a person nothing more than a bloody pile of flesh. At a bad angle it did much the same, which made weaving between her fists an experience exciting and terrifying, urging him to laugh madly and run away in equal measure.

Kakashi did none of the above. He found interest in the extreme and was far too used to terror to be much affected.

Her knuckles scraped by as he got his head out of the way. He slid past the punch, the rush of dispersing air enough to tilt him off-balance. The ground closed in and he let himself fall, stopping short just before hitting the grass. He lunged up. Lightning crackled around his hand, bright and deadly. The white spear met nothing, fizzling out over Tsunade's shoulder. The smell of burnt clothes came at Kakashi, who waited for the last moment to escape as her fist descended on him, again.

Sideways it was, then. Halfway he met Tsunade's knee which steered toward his kneecap. He bent away from the attack but the change of course cost him. Her fist came crashing down and a log took the brunt of the attack. Before even confirming if her punch hit, Tsunade was already turning, striking out against him. Not easy to fool a Sannin. Kakashi dodged that last punch, then drew the kunai right over his palm.

Tsunade's eyes widened at the blood. Her pause lasted a fraction of a second long, but that hesitation was enough. Everything came to a stop when she noticed that moving further would mean slicing her throat on the kunai he held to her jugular.

He stowed the kunai and stepped back. Tsunade began working on his palm, looking at the blood with disdain.

Progress, but not enough of it. Her ability to look at real blood now was incredible by normal standards, but the world they lived in seldom dealt in standard fare. As long as there existed the possibility that a moment of hesitation could lead to her death, she couldn't take to the fields.

"Continue," she said once the wound was healed.

Kakashi attacked. If there was a possibility of overcoming this, she would prove to be the person who managed.

* * *

Six weeks after his return, Naruto found himself in a familiar situation.

"Form a row," he said, "and don't push."

Two dozen children, most reaching just a bit higher than his navel, tittered as they stood in front of the large pool. On his request, Sakura had created the rectangular hole, Sasuke had hardened it with fire, and he himself filled it every day anew.

"Let's start," he said. "Remember, you have to continuously push the chakra out of your feet. Adjust it as needed."

Four tried jumping into the pool. He grabbed them out of the air before they even hit the water. Naruto sighed—he probably shouldn't have expected them to listen. Maybe the exercise was too advanced for them. But, he amended, there had been some success in the last days.

One girl had completed the exercise. Not mastered, but she could stand.

And if she could do it, others might too.

As one by one the children tried to move around on the water, observed by a few watchful water clones, his mind drifted off.

When Danzō had talked of responsibility, he meant putting them in a position of power over someone. Not shinobi, the man didn't trust them that far. But that was just as well. Because Naruto had yet to stop waking up in the middle of the night, staring lost at the canopy of the tent. He didn't know how well he would be able to deal with other shinobi. Kids were much easier. At times their antics made him laugh, and he soaked up all the happiness around him, trying to hold onto it. As if their joy would transform him into something which he was not but had been before. The potential was there. It had to be.

He thought of Sasuke, who currently headed a whole host of nurses. That was a good image. Sasuke hounding them to work while staving off work for himself as much as possible. The perfect hospital record with a supervisor who worked less than any other on issues that concerned his job. Sakura had two scribes following her who wrote down what she deemed noteworthy when it came to logistics. An important but ultimately boring task, which still beat out shoveling during latrine duty.

It felt as if Naruto had traveled through time and landed in the Suna before his imprisonment, just that all of them carried a lot more baggage now.

 _At least he lets us stay in the same tent now._

Why Danzō did what he did, Naruto had no clue. The man was as enigmatic as he'd ever been, and—curiously enough after the months spent as his lackey—Danzō seemed to have lost all interest in him.

Aside from the transfer of the seal, Naruto had seen him all of three times. Mostly when taking a small mission outside the village to which Danzō sent Team Seven now and then, excusing them from their other duties.

Afternoon broke and Naruto dismissed the exhausted students by allowing them to bathe in the pool for half an hour. Most boys jumped into it on the spot, a few remaining outside until finding a girl they could fling into the water.

Naruto sat on a dried log and watched them splash each other, listening as the volume of chatter grew and they started laughing.

A luxury of carefree behavior that he hadn't granted his class in Konoha. But whenever he decided to become sterner with them, he felt like a fool for even thinking so. The world would show them soon enough what wares it had on offer, from the beautiful necklace to the poisoned apple. Let them laugh and play, he thought, as long as they grew stronger. That way they might have something to hold onto when things got tough.

* * *

Sakura stood in the middle of the Hole. The place reeked of sweat and blood. Earlier she had ordered her scribes to take notes of the available stock, while she worked out some unresolved emotions inside her. She couldn't do that with Naruto and Sasuke because she cared far too much about them—that their comparative skill level made thrashing them quite difficult was beside the point.

Not so with these people. The slab of meat in front of her lashed out with his fist and after a minimalistic dodge she slammed her elbow into his face. By all rights she should feel sorry for the broken nose, and—she sent a hook crashing into his side—the ribs too, but strangely she didn't.

What she felt was…satisfaction? Not really. Vindication? That wasn't it either. Pulling the legs out under her opponent, a fist in his hair as he fell down, then slamming his head into the wooden planks surrounding them, she found that she had no idea as to what she felt, but that destroying something was strangely pleasant.

The bearded Chūnin slumped to the ground, his head a bloody mess, and a friend of his pulled him out of the pit.

Sakura leaned against the wall, combing back her sweaty hair. With her dirty shirt she wiped away the sheen on her face. Exhausting, and she had noticed more than one pair of eyes on her when she lost her vest.

This had been the third opponent in a row that she disposed of. She wondered how many would still try their luck—the more the better, until the search for the elusive answer to the question she hadn't yet posed would present itself.

Hanging from a leather cord, a drinking bag suddenly dangled in front of her face. At the other end Kiba grinned over the wooden railing, then swung down into the pit while she drank the water.

"You sure this'll make you feel better?" he asked.

She wiped her mouth. "Works for you, doesn't it?"

"I doubt these guys offer much of a challenge." Objectively that was true—most of the people around didn't seem as interested in fighting her as before. When she had started her first bout, everyone wanted a piece of her, in multiple ways, as they had vocally stated many times. Flattering, really.

"Who said I want a challenge?"

Surprise flickered over his face. He murmured something to himself—according to his expression a judgment on women in general. Then he rotated his shoulder, a feral grin stretching the red mark on his face.

"There's no fun in it if all you do is stomp weaklings, Sakura. I've no idea _why_ you're doing this, but I'd be more than happy to help. Beating scrubs won't be enough. Trust me, I know. All it does is bore you."

He cracked his knuckles and stared at her, head slightly tilted. The shinobi around them took exception to the word "scrub," scowling and shaking their heads, but none of them challenged him. He had fought in this pit since the beginning, almost a year ago now.

"Seems like you got a reputation."

"Have I now?"

 _Maybe this will be fun,_ she thought. _And what have you got to lose, Haruno? It's not as if you had a plan to begin with._

Two minutes passed. Everyone placed their bets. When the gong sounded Sakura bounced on her toes, observing Kiba. He moved with a languid poise. Effortless, if she were to name it.

They inched closer to each other.

Kiba had always been one of the best in Taijutsu back in Konoha, and she one of the worst. Training had enabled her to overcome this deficit, in part due to Ninjutsu and Genjutsu, but also through the grueling conditioning of her body. Nevertheless, she'd never become a master in close quarters.

Now, with no chakra allowed, how large would the gulf between them prove to be? Or was there a gulf at all? She couldn't deny that what she had survived with her teammates had created a sizable amount of hubris. Believing that she wasn't arrogant when judging people of the same rank as her would be delusional.

When they were almost in punching range Kiba exploded into motion. And before she could even think about returning an attack, his fist buried itself into her stomach.

She jolted back from him. A triple-feint? She juked to the left, but Kiba was there. His fist heading right for her face.

 _Not again, asshole_.

She feinted into a kick, then jumped up and brought her elbow on his head. He weaved away and just as he thought he had the situation under control, Sakura surged forward. Kiba avoided the punch she threw, but the kick to his leg hit. He buckled, but recovered quickly.

Both returned to their initial distance. They grinned.

This would be fun after all.

* * *

" _Katon: Gokakyu no Jutsu!_ "

Sasuke's fireball tore along the ground and Sasuke grunted as he blocked Naruto, who had jumped over the flames and came down on him with a heavy knee thrust. Sasuke diverted the attack to the side, stepped back and ducked under Sakura's swing. He gripped her arm and, before leaning to the right, threw her into Naruto. A water bullet shot past his head, leaving cool beads on his face.

Sakura was on him again, knives ready to slice him into ribbons. Mid-turn during his evade he drew a kunai, spinning it to deflect an incoming pair of shuriken. Two feet away from him the shuriken changed place with Naruto, who joined Sakura in their common attempt to pound him into the desert.

Sasuke flung his kunai at a viable point of escape, deflected another blow, then used a substitution. He exited the technique near the Shard Wall, scaling the monument even as he noticed Naruto's bulging cheeks and Sakura's advancing Genjutsu. Both pursued him. He vaulted onto the other side, sliding down the wall.

The air vibrated as Naruto's bullet hit the Shard Wall behind him.

On the other side Sasuke had about five seconds until they would corner him. Enough time for the results of Chiyo's latest exercise to work their magic. He activated his bloodline and applied chakra to dull the pain. The second layer of energy to regenerate the nerves followed a hand seal later.

Naruto and Sakura shot over the wall. They landed in front of him, aiming their attacks straight at his face, and Sasuke relished their momentary lapse of focus as they stared at his eyes.

"Sasuke, you—"

His fist pushed its way past Naruto's defense, sending him skidding over the sand. Sakura rushed forward, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity Sasuke could see her movement in perfect clarity. It felt like a dream-state. Her fist was on collision course with the side of his head, and to the right Naruto jumped into a spin-kick, forming seals for another technique.

Sasuke slid to the left, pushing against Sakura's fist at such an angle that it blocked Naruto's incoming foot. When Naruto loosened the water bullet, it soared just past Sasuke's shoulder, and Sasuke lunged forward, pushing Sakura with both palms into the airborne blond.

Both tumbled to the ground, rolled, and got up again, several feet between them and Sasuke. He wanted to say something, tell them that his superiority was established once more. A glorious feeling that vanished the moment his thoughts wavered and the chakra around his nerves grew unstable. He deactivated his Sharingan before anything could happen, slowly letting the healing chakra fade away.

Naruto wiped the sweat off his face. "I forgot how troublesome your eyes are."

"You sound like Shikamaru," Sakura said. "How long can you hold it."

"A minute, maybe longer. Not by much." Sasuke's voice grew thorny toward the end. Quantifying made the achievement seem smaller than it felt. It was better than before, of course, but he shouldn't even have to make progress in this regard.

Naruto slapped his shoulder. "Ease up, Sasuke. You'll get there." They walked over to the Shard Wall and sat down in the shadows.

"It'll come," Sakura said. "Genius perks and all that." She unsealed a bag of water, drank, then gave it up to Naruto.

Manipulating chakra in three different ways not only asked for control, but also for deep reserves. At times Sasuke felt envy at Naruto's chakra capacity, before reminding himself that it came attached with a steep price tag. Still, whether the idea was considered or not, Sasuke decided that telling Naruto of it would prove to be a mistake.

"Have you seen the kids around?" Naruto said, minutes later. The silence had been exquisite. After a drawn-out training session it always was.

"Which?" Sakura said.

"Back when Danzō split us up."

Sasuke arched an eyebrow. "The ones you stalked?"

"I protected them," Naruto said. "That's all. They should be old enough for the academy, but I haven't seen them yet. They're not at their grandfather's either. Already looked."

"Ask Kiba," said Sakura. "He might find them. But I still think you have an unhealthy—"

Sasuke, who had stared out at the desert, heard a dull thud. Then came the scream. Beside him Naruto was writhing on the ground, clutching his stomach, eyes rolling around in their sockets.

Sakura shouted, "Naruto!" and Sasuke bent down to him, green hands hovering above his stomach. The measure neither took away the pain away, nor revealed the cause. And as Sasuke was about to shoulder Naruto, eyes fixed on the camp, the attack stopped. Naruto lay there, hovering at the edge of unconsciousness, panting harshly, half of his face crusted with sand.

* * *

Naruto woke to Sasuke's face hovering above his. The Uchiha looked intent on divining a great truth right around the left side of his nose.

"Kiss me and I'll kill you," said Naruto.

"I'd do it myself."

The green hand wandered from Naruto's head down to his stomach. He wore no shirt and was lying on a bedroll. When the memories of churning heat and pain came to him he told Sasuke as much.

"Kyuubi?" said Sasuke.

"Where is Sakura?"

"Outside." The green light dimmed down. "You sent her into hysterics."

"She listened to you?"

"She does, occasionally," Sasuke said. "She's asking Kiba about the kids."

"Calming down, too?"

"Hopefully." Sasuke pushed a cup with odorless, yellow liquid into Naruto's hands. "Drink."

"I'm fine."

"Drink."

Naruto did, and found out that odorless differed from tasteless. The bitter taste of ginger in his mouth, he put the empty cup aside. "Poisoning me now?"

"If I wanted to, you'd be dead already."

True enough, Naruto supposed. Sasuke was rather good at killing. Given the right tools they all were.

"Now," Sasuke said. "Kyuubi?"

"Possibly." Naruto had told his teammates a bit more of his dealings with the fox, more than Danzō at any rate. Not everything, of course. When did anyone ever tell everything to someone else?

He nodded at Sasuke's hand, which hopefully had not fondled him while he was unconscious. It was rather difficult to tell in which way a person changed upon becoming a healer. "Found anything?"

"Nothing," Sasuke said. "It's all gone."

"Great," said Naruto. He looked at his navel, contemplating the seal and the contained entity within. "Trying to screw me again, eh?"

"It's a Bijū."

"You think every Bijū is like this?"

"Maybe," Sasuke said. "But you insulted it."

"That's true."

"If this happens again or gets worse you'll have to tell Danzō."

Naruto lowered his head back to his vest on which it head had rested before. The ceiling of the tent was a circle of light inside a bigger circle of shadow.

"I'll tell him if it happens again," he said. He wasn't quite sure of that though. Going to Danzō would mean admitting defeat. Not going meant living in denial of what had just happened. Which, then, was the better option? Postponing the decision he said, "Let's find Sakura," and made to stand up.

"Can you walk?"

"I had cramps, not a hole in my stomach."

"Fierce cramps," Sasuke said.

"Very fierce, yes. Still only cramps though."

"If you say so."

"I do," Naruto said and, grabbing a shirt and his vest, walked out of the tent, slowly, Sasuke following.

* * *

Searching for the children happened next day. Kiba had hinted at a possible hiding place and Team Seven followed that lead, coming by the remains of the village's specialized orchards. During the storm the protection seals had failed first, before the water system followed.

When Team Seven walked along the dirt path between the dead grass and the heaps of broken glass from the hothouses, Sakura heard voices, happy ones, one male, in a thick Suna accent, the other, female, without. They came from behind a granite block, from which several pipes buried into the ground.

Sasuke was moving on already, and Sakura pulled Naruto away. No need to interrupt the couple. A year after the conquest such mingling was still considered daring, but the more it happened the better. Though the location could use improvement. Sakura knew of little that was less romantic than a dead orchard.

Out of reach of the couple she said, "Good for them."

"Progress, if nothing else." Shadowing his face Naruto looked back. "Strange place though."

"It's secluded," Sasuke said.

"Not by that much," Naruto said.

"Better than the wall. I wouldn't want a date there," said Sakura. The orchard at least was not a monument to defeat, she thought. It was indeed a much better place than the wall. The broken glass reflected the sun. Looked at in the right way it provided a beautiful backdrop for having sex. "Here's to hoping they make it past the next months."

"Doubtful," Sasuke said.

"Why?" said Sakura.

Sasuke shrugged. "Suna has no ability to produce its own food anymore. Our supply caravans were raided twice now, and Danzō is rationing. Love is unsustainable when one side is starving."

"You're the most cheerful person I know, Sasuke," Naruto said.

"It's logical," Sasuke said.

Love, of course, followed along the well-trodden path of logic, as it has always done. "They could share," Sakura said.

"Then both would still be hungry."

"Which beats one of them dying of starvation," Naruto said. He wore a strange expression as he talked. "Have you found anything about the thieves, Sakura?"

"Nothing. Shikari is stumped. I quite enjoy it." She did, truly. No problems to account for in the areas Sakura covered with her team of scribes, but her former supervisor now apologized weekly to Danzō.

"Cruel," Naruto said.

"Karmic more like it," said Sakura. "For all the shit she had me shovel she can grovel a little longer."

"Do you know who is responsible?" Naruto said. They passed the last of the orchards and entered back into the village. Jammed solid, the houses sloped up against the wall to the east.

"No idea. If I knew I'd have to bring them in, even if I want Shikari to suffer a bit more."

"You really hate her that much?" Naruto said.

"I don't want to see another shovel in my life, or I'll crack."

"Maybe I'll buy you one for your birthday."

Sakura narrowed her eyes. "If you want to die, go right ahead."

"We're here," Sasuke said.

They had followed the lead up to a dilapidated three-storey building. Shutters covered most windows. Where they didn't, cloth had been stretched to deny the view inside. Sakura leaped up to the roof, which missed half of itself. A rather unsatisfying existence, she thought.

They entered through the roof. The upper level was empty but from below came voices amplified by the building. Sakura set off and moved down the stairs without noise to peek around the corner.

Cots sat against the walls in a vast hall. Children lazed on them, or in a circle in the middle, munching on bread. Which morally they should have, of course, but realistically shouldn't. She recognized the siblings they had saved six months ago. The boy, Akashi, played with a blue-lined scroll which he rolled together, before nudging it with his finger so that it unfurled again.

A band of thieves unlike she had expected and which roused her suspicion. Shikari had to be rather incompetent if children were the ones troubling her. Danzō had never struck her as the kind of man to promote a lack of skill. People of disagreeable natures flocked to him, but of ineptitude? Hardly. That, to her dismay, she credited him with. He represented a subclass of hateful persons that still adhered to their own principles, or even had them, in fact. A class slightly above the capricious hateful.

Naruto cleared his throat. "Aiwa," he said.

A way of introduction that given the circumstances resulted in a predictable outcome. The children jumped to their feet. One stumbled and fell to the ground. All of them looked like startled squirrels, the girl Naruto named the most.

"She doesn't know you stalked her," Sasuke said.

"As I told you before," said Naruto, "I just made sure there was no payback."

"Tell that to her," Sakura said.

She agreed, however. They, shinobi, were a vengeful bunch. It came with the territory of power, and the more powerful you were, the greater the chance of your revenge being massive in scale. Judge then, by that measure, what service to humanity S-ranks would provide were they to abolish the concept of revenge entirely. She could not tell that to Naruto, of course, since then Sasuke would hear as well.

Aiwa's expression explained in detail that she remembered Naruto but couldn't place him. Her hand wandered into her ragged dress. She pulled out a knife, rusty, bent, but serviceable enough to induce blood poisoning.

Sakura didn't take her eyes away from the weapon. Being a child had to mean nothing in a war. Little ones, she knew, could stick her just as well as any other person. Though it would seem more of a desperate measure at the moment than premeditated.

When Aiwa shouted, "Run!" the children listened, streaming out of the room. Some took the daredevil way past Team Seven, down the stairs and onto the street; others ripped off the fabric covering the windows, climbing onto the broken balustrade outside.

Then there were only five kids left in the room, the bravest, who stuck it out with their leader. Aiwa looked at her brother, who returned the implied plea with a raised chin. Siblings to the death, it said. _They really have no idea what we want with them_ , Sakura thought. _And it is just as well, because how would they know? But they're lucky that it's us. Pulling a kunai on Konoha shinobi wouldn't fly with Danzō._

"You should put that away," Naruto said.

"How do you know her name?" said Akashi. He took a step forward, reconsidered, and stepped back again.

"Put it away and I'll tell you," Naruto said.

Then he sat down cross-legged, quite unbothered by the shaking knife in the shaking hands of the shaking girl. He untied his holster and weapon pouch, and piled up his weapons in front of him. It looked all quite ceremonial. An imploring gaze later, Sakura's knives joined the pile and she took her place beside him. Sasuke considered the exits, as if contemplating whether someone would be able to see him. Then, coming to a satisfying conclusion about the safety of his dignity, he let his sword follow the trend.

The peace talks could begin. Sakura did not believe they would work.

For a minute Aiwa observed them. Then she stowed away the knife and sat down. Her brother and the other children followed.

"What do you want?" Aiwa said.

"Do you remember me?"

She possessed the subtly of youth, and her expression said 'yes—maybe—I don't know', switching steadily between those options.

"Think back," Naruto said. "Half a year. Maybe more. You were playing with your brother and some friends. You met some unpleasant people."

"Konoha-nin," Akashi said.

"Right," said Naruto. "But you met more than one team that day, didn't you? I think there was this other group, the one with all the good-looking people in it."

Aiwa nodded wordlessly.

"Now, don't think bad of me—not like those two," Naruto said, pointing at his teammates, "but I followed up on you afterward, making sure you stayed alive."

Their eyes widened.

"Retaliation is a thing, you know?" Naruto whispered as though sharing a secret. Sakura found that he seemed soft, unnaturally so. She had visited a few lessons of his back in Konoha and couldn't remember him behaving like anything but a slightly less sadistic version of Kakashi.

"Retala…" Akashi struggled with the word.

"It means them getting back at you for having been kicked to kingdom come," Naruto said.

"Why?" Aiwa asked.

"Why they want to get at you?"

"No. Why did you…"

"Good deeds shouldn't go to waste," Naruto said. "We got punished anyway. Better to make sure it's not for nothing."

Akashi leaned forward, narrow-eyed and skeptical. "Why you here now?"

"Suna's academy is open again."

"We know," Aiwa said.

"You weren't there."

She laughed, and Sakura felt a twinge. Children should not sound like this. Cynical and bitter was reserved for dust.

"It's for rich brats only," Akashi said. "We can't even eat enough."

"There's no fee for entering," said Naruto.

Patting the place where her knife was hidden Aiwa said, "We've no equipment."

"The academy will lend you some."

"They won't," Akashi said. "I asked and they said no."

Naruto hummed thoughtfully. He smiled at them, though Sakura thought it looked strained. "Must've been a while back," he said. "They will now, or rather, I will. Why don't you come by tomorrow and we'll see about getting you kitted out?"

The children behind the siblings appeared as hesitant as their leaders, understandably so. When they nodded, Sakura felt as if she had disconnected with youth, though still being young herself. It would not enter her mind that, with their experience, they trusted them. Jaded was the word.

"Good," Naruto said. "Now scram. And don't pull that knife on anyone else. They can get you for that."

* * *

Outside, Naruto stretched his arms. The sun beat down on Team Seven as they made toward their tent, returning through the orchard. The couple had left, or if they were still there, then silently so.

"I'm surprised they accepted," Sakura said. "It's strange that they're taking your word for it."

"Not much that beats the academy for brats who got nothing," Naruto said. "If nothing else it's a way to relieve boredom. Besides, why would I go through all the trouble just to humiliate them? They'll try it."

Sakura said, "The boy's a bit brash." She snickered. "He reminds me of someone."

"Uh-huh," Naruto said. Then, "Say, Sasuke, want to come clean?"

Sasuke was walking in front of them, the sword at his hip shifting each step. "About anything in particular?"

Naruto pulled the blue-lined scroll from the kids out of his vest and lobbed it at him. "Specific enough?"

"It's a scroll," Sasuke said.

"Well observed. Who created it?"

"A Fūinjutsu user."

Sakura took the scroll from Sasuke's hand, to inspect it. "Why did they have a scroll you made, Naruto?"

"Beats me," Naruto said. They were out of the orchard now and he lowered his voice as they entered into the more populated districts of Suna. "I barely use them. But our resident Uchiha often asks for more. Storage problems at the hospital, you know?"

Sakura smiled at a passing patrol, then turned to Sasuke and said, "Why was there food inside?"

"I wanted to help," Sasuke said.

"And I don't believe you," said Naruto. Many things constituted Sasuke's character, but being plagued by an intrinsic altruism was not among them. "Cut the bullshit. What's up with those scrolls?"

Sasuke looked irritated. "Chiyo. What she does with them isn't my problem."

"Payment for exercises?" Naruto scratched his chin. "It's a roundabout way of doing good, but I approve."

"As if I care."

"It's dangerous," Sakura said, voice sufficiently backed by steel, the force of a soundproofing illusion behind it. "Danzō knows there are thieves. Stealing food is a no-go at the moment."

"I won't be caught," Sasuke said.

"You won't, but what about the kids?"

"What about them?" Naruto said.

"You think he won't punish them if he finds a scroll like that in their home?"

Sakura's reply stopped Naruto in his tracks. He had not considered that angle before. Even if Danzō had no idea of who was at fault, making an example out of the children to smoke out the thieving Samaritan seemed like something he would do.

Naruto said, "If Aiwa and Akashi die after I got them into the academy, there'll be hell to pay, Sasuke."

"The exercises help."

"I never said anything about stopping," Naruto said. "But we have to improve the method. We might want to stop using scrolls altogether for a while."

"What then?" said Sakura.

"We'll think of something," Naruto said.

* * *

The children enrolled a day later and gathered the fifth-hand equipment in their arms. Their eyes showed the typical gleam of a freshly fulfilled desire and the underlying anxiety that accompanied the anticipation of what came next. Them attending class closed the chapter, as far as Naruto concerned himself with it.

Food, however, was no chapter but rather an entire book, and those proved notoriously hard to finish. The food shortage led to partial starvation and the necessity—one of Danzō's favorite words—of filling your belly, to a people more willing to take risks. Thievery was on the rise, and Sasuke proclaimed his innocence in all but a few instances. Which begged the question if his forays into the storage tents were the starting point, emboldening those that came after. A tricky situation because, like many people, he too liked to claim but hated to take responsibility when it might hurt.

Prime ingredients, in any case, for a calamitous stew. The spice needed came in the shape of another ambushed caravan. The responsible raiders being simple bandits appeared more ludicrous each second.

When Danzō later called on them Naruto found that the command tent had received a new addition. Blue pins stuck to the south-western area of a map. On the table next to the map sat a stack of paper, a basket with pins, a burnt down candle, and machinery that Naruto vaguely recalled from Iruka's math lessons.

"Tracking going good?" said Naruto, not entirely without bite. The transfer of the seal had been painful, and the implications of his future prospects of saving Temari smarted equally. So much for his plan of using the seal to do good.

"That is no longer your concern," Danzō said.

Naruto very much liked to be involved, but letting Danzō know of this would invite suspicion about the truthfulness of his account, and with that the purity of his patriotism. A dangerous proposition.

He eyed the stack of notes in a rather obvious way and said, "You're right. Math seems time consuming."

The half-circles under Danzō's eyes made him the most expressive he had ever been.

"You called for us?" Sakura said.

"In a week, the next caravan will leave from Yusō," said Danzō. On another map, and he had quite a lot of those, he showed them the village. The path marking the route from Yusō to Suna was orange. A fine color. "It is vital that our supplies arrive. You and three other teams will ensure this happens. If you are attacked, strike back. But the supplies are your priority. Is that clear?"

"Why are only we here?" Sasuke said.

"I already chose the other teams beforehand. They are, however, not as experienced in combat."

It seemed a monumental effort to say that, Naruto thought.

"This," Danzō continued, "will be the first mission in which you lead other shinobi. It is crucial that you consider the consequences before you act, always. One misstep and all of your comrades are delivered to death—that is the burden of command. Think on that whenever you have the urge to diverge toward insanity."

A not so veiled reference. Naruto nodded curtly. Sasuke's and Sakura's expressions were muted. The only part of the burden of command new to them was the official capacity now framing it.

"We'll get those supplies back to Suna," said Naruto.

Before they left the tent Danzō threw them a mission scroll. He seemed rather frustrated.

* * *

 **AN:** That's it for today, folks. Hope you enjoyed yourself! By the way, I ask you to really imagine the scene with Sakura in the pit fight. Isn't that just the greatest imagery ever? Light sheen of sweat, slightly bloodied, feral smile and just in a top. But that might just be me. Anyway, I guess most of you will be happy (to a degree) now that Naruto is back with his team. It's been quite a while since they saw each other.


	12. Curved II

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto

 **AN:** We just broke the 500 review mark and did so a while ago for the 1000/1000 regarding recced and followed respectively. Thanks to everyone who's reading this story and I hope you'll all stay onboard for the second half of it. (Yes, we're halfway through now.) Best wishes and an enjoyable read, Eilyfe.

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Curved – II**

* * *

" _Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you._ "

* * *

Team Seven commanded nine shinobi of different abilities, all of them young and under twenty, four of them women and none of them too experienced. They came to Suna as Genin and if luck forsook them they would leave as Chūnin, promoted and in more danger than ever. They knew that as well, and when Naruto asked them, "Do you want to become Chūnin?" they tapped their chins in contemplation before saying that they would rather not since in death prestige was worth nothing. It was a more measured approach to life than Naruto had expected. It was certainly different than his own from when such things still mattered. Sakura still told them that she would not tolerate slacking just because they lacked ambition. Harsh words that motivated quite well.

The group set out toward Yusō. The dunes were high as always, the sun hot as per natural decree, and the air unmoving as if boxed in by nothingness. Sand towered on sand and that was how it would be for the future, foreseeable or otherwise. Naruto had had quite enough of the desert.

On the way he did his best to ignore the unchanging landscape which would accompany them for a while yet. In turn he thought of the substitute teacher at the Academy whom he told that should he screw with the kids there he would gut him, and of the young man with red hair walking in front of him who was two years older than him. He had large hands that did not look like they fit his body. As though he had used an Akamichi technique and fumbled it and now his hands were stuck halfway through.

Naruto passed time wondering about this seemingly lost sibling of Chōji that walked under his command. He named him Hands, and had the real name been mentioned, it did not matter. If pressed he could remember but who would press him if no one knew the names had been swapped? He felt secure.

Ahead of them, they had just passed a pile of sand, Sakura held three conversations at once and did it beautifully. She made in all of them the impression of offering her undivided attention.

"Good," Sasuke said, same sight.

"I don't think she had any chance to blab lately," said Naruto.

"Same with us," Hands said. He had heard them, slowed, and took to walking beside them now. "Shizuka's only been with us for months now. It'll do her some good." He gesticulated and Naruto's attention was drawn to the elephant-stranglers attached to his arms.

"Aye," said Hands' teammate, nondescript in all but his bulbous nose. "Sakura, right? Saw her in the Hole a few weeks ago, wrecking those poor sods. Fine girl. Good-lookin' and mean. I like that."

Mean indeed. Naruto raised an eyebrow. "In the Hole?"

"Apparently," said Sasuke. "She fought Kiba and won, but not before he broke her arm and nose."

"Which you patched up."

"Which I did, yes."

"Not a bad fight," came from Hands.

"Dishonor," Sasuke said. "On her team and her family."

Naruto found that it was Sasuke's greatest strength to say such things without giving any indication of whether he spoke what he meant or enjoyed himself behind a veneer of aloofness. The thin line between the two always confused the uninitiated and amused those versed in his behavior.

"True enough," Naruto said.

They left Hands and his friend to wonder what they meant and continued on, steady on, toward Yusō, camping when it was appropriate and walking once camping had served its purpose. In three days' time they would cross into River Country, at a point only a few miles away from Ajia.

Naruto walked on. He had the sudden urge to think of blond and did so until a day later he grew weary of it and abandoned blond for teal, then pink, before giving up on colors altogether.

* * *

They arrived in Yusō as the night grew less easy to ignore. They checked into an inn, distributed shifts to stay guard, and Hands drew the first lot and complained as he took a roll of sausage, a canteen of water, and made to do his duty while the rest went to sleep. The rooms in the inn had no tatami mats but wooden panels and real beds, and Sakura enjoyed the soft mattress, clean sheets and the nice pillow while Naruto dimmed down the light and the wind came south sharp and the trees swayed outside the window.

Next day they visited the plaza at the center of Yusō and she perused the wares on offer while the sun shone through the high trees and everywhere there was green and she felt almost at home. She held up to the sun the amber chain a hawker showed her, inspecting the mosquito trapped therein, wings spread from its thin body as if having been caught in flight. Eventually she told the man that she did not want to buy what he was peddling. It had all the hallmarks of being false. The daughter of a merchant, however strained their relationship, should know enough to notice such forgery.

She moved on after Naruto bought the first tobacco in ages and they settled at the outside table of a food stall. As he stuffed his pipe she said, "I almost forgot that you smoke," and thought it was really a deplorable habit. "It's been what, a year now?"

"Feels like more," he said, unbothered. "I would've made you remember earlier, but Suna seems to hate tobacco. I found nothing, and believe me, I looked."

"I wish you'd stop," she said.

The smell of sweet briar carried over and eddies of smoke rose around his face. "Not going to happen anytime soon," he said. "You should've bought me some in Sukoru. I heard they have good blends."

A tall waitress brought them a platter with dumplings and tea. She spoke a curious accent that mingled Suna with Konoha, and Sakura forewent the retort and instead took a skewer. The dumplings were good and sweet and she savored each of them since there were seldom dumplings in the desert and she had not eaten some in two years. The tea was made with pomegranate and sweetened with honey. It was entirely from Suna and the fruits themselves originated from the southern reaches but Sakura did not know whether the storm had hit there too. Maybe there would be no more fruits like this and she was drinking some of the last tea.

"We had other problems in Sukoru," Sasuke said. He looked after the waitress moving away from them with swaying hips that asked for attention and received it quite easily.

"You mentioned that," said Naruto. "What about the guy you rescued? Iko. The Daimyo's son. What's he up to?"

"Iho," Sakura said. "Danzō wants to establish him as the rightful successor." She ate another dumpling. "As far as I know, he's taking lessons from a teacher Danzō called in. Lessons going beyond being the mayor of a city."

"The basics for a ruler? You think it'll be worth it?"

Sasuke snorted, to which Sakura said, "We'll see what's going to happen. He can't be worse than his brother."

"For Wind Country, or Konoha?"

"Does it matter?" said Sasuke.

"Not really," Naruto said.

Sakura pushed the empty plate away and took the cup of tea in both hands, leading it to her lips. "We need a plan for the way back," she said. "There will be more supplies than usual."

"How did the others do it?" Naruto said.

"Caravan," said Sasuke.

"That's not going to work," Naruto said. "They'll come for us, whoever _they_ are. I want us to stay mobile."

"Let's get rid of the mules," Sasuke said.

Naruto rested his head on his palm and stared at Sasuke. "You want to slaughter them?"

"Interesting idea," Sasuke said. "Head or flanks?"

That, Sakura decided, was a new development. Humor had helped them quite a bit so far, but lately Naruto liked to take it further than usual. Had both her teammates lacked the pathological need to always outdo each other, their discussions would be much friendlier to listeners. As it stood, the waitress who had just passed by on her way to another table looked at them in revulsion.

Sakura cleared her throat. "I think mules have rights too and deserve to live. You two are horrible."

"Stop joking," Naruto said. "I can see the bloodlust in your eyes." Since her expression failed to change he added, "Fine, don't slaughter the mules. How do you want to get rid of them, Sasuke, if not a kunai to the tail?"

"How is your sealing coming along?"

"Good enough to make a tracking seal," Naruto said. "Bad enough that I didn't know you could transfer them."

"Can you seal the supplies?" said Sakura.

"If I have a large enough scroll, yes."

"We'll get you one," Sakura said.

She left a few coins on the table and rose to begin her shift. The waitress glared at her. In the stable close by a mule made sounds of despair, though he did not belong to the caravan and was thus not the object of their focus.

* * *

The team to meet with them arrived on time. First came the heads of not mules but oxen that peeked through the gate of Yusō, yokes around their thick necks and accompanied by their even thicker flanks. They pulled in carts laden with secured crates, barrels and chests. Then came the escort and revealed familiar faces.

Sakura and her teammates, who had set up the sealing, crossed the street from the inn to the gate.

"Guys!"

Chōji called for them and waved. When Sakura was close enough Shino offered a clipped nod and Hinata sketched a strange bow, though Sakura would never accuse it of being anything but well-intentioned. The capability to bend precisely at fifteen degrees, to lower your hands by one and a half inches while keeping your gaze aligned with the movement, relied on a mental focus that seemed unavailable to Hinata in Naruto's presence.

She had grown, however, quite considerably so, extolling certain virtues and keeping others. The secret for such full and soft hair, and in such an elaborate braid too, should not be a secret at all. It was enough to incite envy, and the time they had not seen each other seemed magnified by that revelation alone.

"Been a while, huh?" Chōji, round and armored Chōji, slung his arm around Naruto's shoulder, hesitant for understandable reasons. But time had a way of dulling edges and Naruto returned the hug with no delay.

"You can say that again," Naruto said. "Had a good trip?"

"We suffered no trouble on the way," said Shino. He looked healthy, more than a shinobi with one arm should. The sleeve that should be empty was stuffed. There existed no medical knowledge of which Sakura knew that could regrow an arm, and so her conclusion led to a host of crawling things too terrible to name. She averted her eyes quickly. Contrary to Sasuke she did not possess the stomach to stare in interest at an arm that was not.

Taking in Hinata once more she said, "We didn't expect it to be you, but I'm glad it is. Lately, things have been hectic. It's good to see familiar faces."

Shino pushed his glasses up his nose. "We are lucky indeed," he said. "Why? There are a lot of teams like this, eager to prove themselves useful. We have been chosen by Tsunade-sama."

"A great honor," said Hinata, "if a bit surprising. Father inquired further, and it appears that Tsunade-sama had planned for us to take this mission sooner or later."

"You said there are a lot of teams like yours in Konoha?" Sasuke said. For a change he looked at Shino's arm and not his face.

"A few," said Shino. "More now than at the beginning of the war. We are deemed unfit for the frontlines until our injuries have healed, or due to _other_ reasons."

All on its own, possessing a force of attraction Sakura could not account for logically, Shino's arm drew her attention back to it. She considered it tactless of herself yet could not stop staring, and was left slightly ashamed.

"The situation has not yet descended to a level where the intervention of the disabled becomes a necessity, Sakura," Shino said. Today she had no trouble to judge his state of mind. He looked willing to go and his body buzzed in disconcert at not being able to.

"There's a lot to be said for Wind Country," Naruto said, "but it's still a warzone. You better enjoy your time in Konoha."

Sasuke said, "What about you two?" and nodded at Hinata and Chōji. "You're healthy enough."

"For a while I've been up north actually," Chōji said. "Never to the battles though. Three months ago they delegated me to guard the supply caravans, and here I am. Shikamaru's well, by the way. He's working together with his dad and the Hokage, though I doubt he's been used as much more than a scribe. He complained a lot last time I saw him."

"I can envision that pretty well," Sakura said. And she could, since Shikamaru had always had such a stubborn proclivity to avoid work. Under the scrutiny of his parents and the Hokage such a mindset had to shrivel like a grape in the sun. The image of a reformed Shikamaru, now a stout believer in work ethics that bordered on the insane, amused her, quite justly so. "What about you, Hinata?"

The attention seemed to make Hinata regress into prior shyness. When she looked down, Naruto's and Sasuke's eyes followed the path to her well-defined chest which rather protruded like a pair of mountains on an otherwise flat space. _Really_ , Sakura thought, _it's_ _enough to make anyone jealous_. Later she would say a few words of choice to her teammates, and maybe now too if they did not stop their staring soon.

Hinata saved them, just so. She gathered herself and began to speak. Naturally, Naruto and Sasuke now looked at her face.

"I have been in Konoha," Hinata said. "The clan supplies a large amount of shinobi to the north, and wounded Hyūga are returning almost every week. I…I have taken an interest in healing." There it was, the glimmer of strength that explained the poise Sakura had noticed, which had been so conspicuously absent in her years at the academy. "As the heiress it is my duty to care for our shinobi to the best of my ability."

"I bet they're getting wounded on purpose," said Naruto.

Hinata's cheeks reddened in response and Sakura said, "Stop teasing her." Turning to the group at large she added, "Anyway, it's great to have you here. We should get to work though if we want to have some time later."

"Can you do it?" Sasuke asked.

"I'll manage," Naruto said, unsealing the large scroll they had bought earlier. They would roll the carts into the yard of the inn and go from there. "It'll take a while though. Make yourself comfortable."

They did, or tried to at least. Sasuke gave Hinata no chance to sit down before whispering into her ear and leaving toward a table at the tea place from earlier. He walked, as always, with the assuredness that denying his wishes was an impossibility. Delusional, of course, but today it turned out to be right. Hinata followed rather hurriedly to keep up with his pace.

* * *

Things progressed in Yusō and before long Naruto finished the last scribble on the scroll. Hundreds of little circles were placed inside four larger ones, all connected to the rectangle of ink framing it.

He eyed his creation critically, but finding no faults put the brush away and began massaging his cramping hand. The seal was not a masterful creation. It had been annoying most of all. Too much small and detailed work in too little time. Looking down on the circles, he still felt pride however. Fūinjutsu counted to the more esoteric arts, and even a simple array like this would bring most Chūnin a headache were they to decipher it.

Go through Konoha, Iruka had said once, and pick out ten Jōnin from the street. Six of them will know enough to create their own one-use scrolls. From those six pick three, and they will have the knowledge to expand their skills if they so choose. Now, from those three only one will have actually done so. That one, Iruka had added, might be another ANBU captain or Hokage.

In that sense Naruto felt the draw to Fūinjutsu to be inevitable. The Sandaime, Jiraiya, Kakashi, even Iruka. He admired all of them for different reasons but they all had learned about sealing at one time or another. Danzō and Orochimaru, too, though admiration was in short supply there. The art led to strength if pursued to its extreme. That was what history and his own experience had taught him so far. One day he would have enough time to really dig into it and claw his way to the top of the sealing world. And when that happened he would make sure that he and the Kyuubi had a long overdue meeting where the current power imbalance was non-existent.

Breaking from his thoughts he uttered a sharp whistle. "It's done," he called out. His teammates and the others filtered into the stone-walled yard and stood around the seal. "Let's get this wrapped up and then we can go to sleep."

Following the murmured assent they took the supplies from the carts and placed them on the scroll.

"Four crates at a time," Naruto said.

Once the crates were positioned on the four large circles he paced through a sequence of hand seals. The circles lit up and the crates shimmered out of existence, veiled by smoke. Soon the light from the large circles traveled down the lines of symbols until arriving at a smaller circle, inside of which the word _crate_ appeared.

The light died out.

* * *

At length they finished and turned in for the night. Naruto with the fierce hope that Danzō would not notice two crates missing. A little smudge in the seal was at fault, and to his dying breath Naruto would say, to anyone who asked, the smudge had not been there when he had created the seal.

The night was restless and plagued by bad dreams. When morning came he rose from his bed far earlier than the others, washed the sweat off his face, and walked into the woods outside of Yusō. He found Shino under a broad sycamore. Naruto plopped down beside him and Shino had no objections to sharing his root. There was a cool morning draft and the first thrushes and blackcaps chirped overhead. The grass was soft and ankle-length, tickling his feet through the sandals.

"I apologize if I appeared overeager yesterday," Shino said.

"It doesn't matter," Naruto said.

"I know that war is not a matter to be taken lightly, Naruto-san."

"Back to honorifics again?"

"It is a habit. I ap—"

"If you apologize again I'll punt you into this tree," Naruto said. Shino went silent and Naruto looked at him with a smile to take the sting out of his words. "I get you. There's nothing to apologize for. All I'm saying is that you should enjoy Konoha while it lasts. It beats Suna by miles." He leaned back until he could stare at the canopy above. "I'd switch if I could. Though I don't think there's any need to now."

"Is there a problem?"

"Wind Country is one heap of problems, Shino. If countries were insects I'd call it the dung-beetle of the world. Useful and having every reason to exist, but it's a fucking dung-beetle alright."

"A rolled up dung-beetle would look a lot like Chōji-san when he uses his clan techniques."

Naruto snorted. "Flattering." He thought about Temari and the two kids, then blinked and chased the thought away. "Maybe dung beetle is the wrong comparison. A swarm of bees seems more appropriate."

"How so?"

"Hurts like hell if you get them angry enough," Naruto said, phantom pain lancing through his back. "But they can do some good. You know, maybe I should stop with the insect comparisons. Aburame probably have heard it all by now. No need to embarrass myself in front of you."

"It is rather late for that," Shino said.

"Scary. You're developing humor."

"I have always possessed it," said Shino. "A catalyst is needed, however, to bring it out."

"Are you telling me I'm not funny enough?"

"Nothing would be farther from my mind, of course," Shino said rising from the root. "We should wake the others now."

"We should."

Naruto went up himself, laughed and followed him. Shortly before they reached the inn Shino said, "Take care, Naruto. I will wait, but I expect you to stay alive. Should the moment arrive that I am deployed, I wish to fight beside you in the battles to come."

"I'd like that," Naruto said. "I'd like that a lot."

An hour later the meeting of friends, which had been far too short, came to a close when one group left Yusō for Konoha and the other for Suna. In time they would see each other again. Naruto had no doubt of it. Until then he would do his best to remember them.

* * *

Three days from Yusō, deep in the desert that offered nothing new as always, it happened. The sand under Sakura's feet vibrated and she felt the shaking ground first in her soles, then her knees and lastly her whole body. Then, as if pushed by a great force, the surface of the desert bulged like the sail of a skiff in full wind. The ground grew scalding.

Sakura shouted, "Back!" as she grabbed the kunoichi beside her, pulling the woman away. They jumped to a safer distance, the teams following her example as they should. Outrunning the trembling earth seemed difficult though.

"Sakura," said Naruto. He balanced on the shaking ground.

The tone of his voice was enough to tell her what he wanted. She gathered her chakra, hastened through seals on the way, and sent it down the sand. When she found the source of the desert's unrest, her arms shook and she commanded them to obey. This was, by God, no time to have them give up on her.

Below she had found a monstrous presence, of fire and ash, of that which burned eternal, and the presence had noticed her as well, for as though the world suffered a fever the sand grew hotter under her feet.

"Move, move, move!"

No time to pull anyone with her this time. Sakura rushed away from the source of heat, praying that the others would follow again and without question. Five feet into her flight, Naruto and Sasuke at her side, the force unleashed itself.

The desert exploded upward in a colossal spray of sand and black particles. A scream cut the air. Sakura recognized the voice. Looking back she found the woman she saved earlier enveloped in crimson-glowing rock, smoke reeling off her body in thin tendrils. The eyes, flickering in panic, left to right and back, were covered last. The scream ran silent.

Born forward by a light wind, the smell of burned flesh washed over Sakura. Beside her Sasuke drew his sword. All eyes locked in on the man who appeared opposite of them. With his foot he nudged the now hardened and blackened statue of the kunoichi and watched it crumble to dust.

Then he turned to them, and Sakura found a feral, old man, wild beard covering the drawn lines on his face. He had slabs of muscle for arms and like the root of a tree, veins threaded across them.

"Is he alone?" said Naruto.

"Three more," Sakura said. She had difficulty to keep her voice measured and calm. "Chūnin."

From across them the man called out, "Name's Rōshi. It's only proper to know who killed you."

He left them no time to formulate a plan, leapt up, and flung lava at them with tremendous force. They dodged to every side but forward, to avoid the projectiles of molten rock.

Barely missing one, Sakura felt heat singe the hairs on her arm. They, she thought as she somersaulted away from another missile, had found at last the raider of their supply caravans. Just that she wished it would have been someone else. Two attacks into the fight and already she felt outclassed again. It reminded her really too much of fighting Kisame and Orochimaru. With that fright, however, rose another emotion, one of familiarity, as it always did when working in tandem with fear. It galvanized her into action, surged through her limbs as she stopped running and rushed forward. They knew adversity. Their way to beat impossible odds had always been to survive long enough for chance to work its magic.

* * *

As the lava rained down on them Naruto pushed two more people out of the way, trying to find a way to salvage the situation. The old man was strong—how strong he did not know, though he assumed the ceiling to be placed at a high point, unreached by any of them so far. Strong enough, in any case, to require all of Team Seven just to stall him. The other attackers were not weak either, but observed in relation to their leader only constituted minor obstacles. Against this, he thought, they had the numerical advantage for once.

Convoluted plans were for people who were either dumb enough to use them or smart enough to make them work. Naruto knew himself to belong neither to the former nor the latter category, or so he hoped. The choice for him was clear. A fight was unavoidable, though he very much would prefer to avoid it.

He leaped to the first team in reach and kicked the Chūnin attacking it away. Out of his pockets he drew two kunai and transformed them into perfect images of the large scroll on his back, then took off that scroll as well. He pushed three identical scrolls into Hands' waiting arms.

"Get to Suna," he said, "and don't look back." Voice lowered he added, "Shiba, you got the real one. Make sure to stay alive. We'll cover you."

"What—"

"Go!"

They hurried away, spurred on by the urgency in his voice. They made it ten paces when Rōshi focused his attention on their scrolls and made a beeline for them.

Naruto launched himself forward. "Sakura!"

Rōshi slapped him away but the delay cost him. Sasuke was on him now too, sword arcing down, a faint sheen of fire surrounding the blade.

Naruto jumped back to his feet, and this close to Rōshi he noticed the man's forehead protector for the first time and his breath caught.

 _Iwa is here…_

 _Iwa is…_

" _Doton: Doryūheki_!" Sakura's voice rumbled across the desert. A wall short up behind the fleeing team, stopping the shuriken aimed at their backs. Then rocks began loosening from the wall and shot toward the Chūnin in pursuit.

The force of reality came at Naruto when Rōshi's fist clipped his face. Naruto hurtled away, blood sloshing around in his mouth as he met the ground. He hit the floor several times before rolling to a halt, rather as though Rōshi had skipped him over a pond like a stone.

Sasuke blasted fire at the old man, a large billowing cloud of flames, while Sakura hurled earth at him. The remaining Konoha teams were dealing with the other two opponents. _Good_ , Naruto thought as he pushed himself to his feet, _this way we might_ —

Before he could join the fight again a presence appeared next to him. He shifted away from a punch to the face and retaliated with a blow that smashed the attacker's head. The Iwa-nin, a man maybe two years older than him, whirled around mid-air and raced through hand seals.

The desert broke open as a spear of earth erupted, nearly skewering Naruto.

Naruto danced around the wild attacks. Closing in on the Iwa-nin, a sense of familiarity nagged at him in the back of his mind. When he was in range and their kunai met in a shower of sparks the feeling increased.

"I'll kill you now, Uzumaki Naruto!" The man looked as though the asylum had vetted him and found him more than acceptable to be their new leader. He knew his name though and that made him problematic.

 _Survive first, think later._

Naruto's kunai arced up, almost taking the Iwa-nin's lip with it. The man stepped out of reach and Naruto went further in to gut him, lifted his left to redirect a punch, and had to abandon the attack and gyrate around another earthen spike that broke out of the sand.

He came at the Iwa-nin again with a high kick and flicked his wrist mid-motion for two kunai to sail at his leg. The sand shot up where they hit and suddenly Naruto noticed from the corners of his eyes a brownish-red color envelop the sky.

He thought, _Not good_ , and his pulse began hammering in his chest.

He faked to the left, shot forward, and kicked a load of sand into the Iwa-nins direction. It was a short and cheap distraction but Naruto used it and threw all his chakra into his hands, pushing the crazy man away from him. It didn't matter who that guy was. What mattered much more was that they had no idea of Rōshi, and that his identity, as it now turned out, would make a difficult issue much worse.

If his suspicion proved to be true, then he might have to do something he had sworn himself not to do anymore. An oath to himself that he had broken again and again, and that with each time broken showed his weakness anew.

 _God, I'm really starting to hate this country._

* * *

Eyes blazing red, Sasuke attacked Rōshi, struggling with the effort to fight at the same time as he worked against the corrosive nature of the Kyuubi's chakra. The frustration of the endeavor came to him as it had always done in the last months. Then the man broke through his defense and Sasuke's body bent under a blow.

His eyes burned and he deactivated the Sharingan quickly, panting. He could not fight like this, not against such an opponent, not now.

The man did not even look at him and Sasuke felt anger rise in him.

 _That small of a threat, am I?_

Sasuke drew in breath, felt the flames tickle his throat. Then he spat a fiery dragon at the man who still refused to look at him. The man's eyes were locked on the horizon as he leaped out of the way of the fire, locked on the direction the team with the scrolls had run toward. They were not visible anymore but Sasuke knew if Rōshi truly wanted to, he would catch up with them as easily as he defended against his attacks right now.

More time. They needed more time. No matter through which means, no matter how humiliating.

Sasuke utilized another fireball when the man suddenly turned around. A translucent, brownish tail of chakra grew out of his side and swept at Sasuke, breaking apart whatever rational thought he had. The tail ripped through the sand leaving a molten mass in its wake. Sasuke had barely made it out of its way on instinct alone.

He knew that sensation, knew it from the feeling in his own eyes. The menacing crawl of a Bijū's chakra as it surged inside and around you.

 _Jinchūriki._

* * *

Naruto closed in on Sasuke's position just in time to see the brown tail pull back for a third attack. From the side he noticed Rōshi grow a second tail. He felt the blood rush through his head. One was hard enough to dodge. Two would be impossible and none of them had the power to stand against that opponent.

He looked around. The other teams were gaining on their enemies but that would not last if this man got the jump on them.

Both tails descended as Naruto appeared in front of Sasuke.

 _Again_ , he thought with frustration. _Again and again and fucking again_.

But this he could not help, for it was what he had feared all along. That when a situation arose in which not his own life but that of his team was threatened, he would abandon his caution, had to, really, since letting anyone of them die was a thought he would not entertain even for a second. So much for control, he thought, and in that moment the decision was made. No matter the burden, he would bear it for the rest of his life if it meant the survival of his family.

In the bowels of his soul his prisoner reacted, and Naruto felt his body tremble with the vibration of laughter coming from inside him, drowning out all the noise around.

 _Uzumaki Naruto!_

* * *

 _No. No, no, no._

Sakura felt her heart constrict when a red energy went out from Naruto that she knew all too well. In one burst, and before Rōshi's brown tails could destroy them, Naruto was enveloped in a thick aura of malice.

Tail was matched by tail. The blast expanding outward from the clash swept Sakura's hair away. When the tails met again she anchored herself to the ground, but before a third clash threw her down, someone darted past her in a blur.

Too late did she recognize the Iwa-nin Naruto had fought earlier. Sakura set after him but lacked the speed. He reached Naruto, thrusting his kunai forward. The blade had made it to the red cloak when a third tail exploded outward and ran through half his stomach. The tail twitched once, then moved whip-like. The body followed the motion, before sliding off and rolling over to Rōshi. The Iwa-nin screamed.

For the first time Sakura noticed Rōshi falter. By now Naruto had fully manifested his third tail and Rōshi kept looking from the bleeding but alive body of the man at his feet, to the swishing tails across him. Things happened fast afterward. Rōshi sent a rolling wall of lava at them, burying two more Konoha shinobi under it. Sakura dodged to the side and rescued the one kunoichi she could. When she looked up again she found Rōshi shouldering the Iwa-nin and glaring at them.

Then he vanished and left them in a field of blackened sand and cracked glass.

* * *

 **AN:** That's it for today. Hope you enjoyed yourself, folks! Things are moving along and the Team is back together on their first mission. And what a mission it turns out to be. Almost seems like someone doesn't like them having an easy time. How do you like Shino? There's not much screen time for all the other guys but I tried to work them in from time to time. Next week, next chapter. Feel free to speculate at what will happen now.


	13. Curved III

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Curved – III**

* * *

 _What is a desert but an ocean of nothing?_

 _Place for everything._

* * *

In the tent of a commander, messengers arrived at every conceivable hour. Time to think in peace was a luxury. And Danzō, who had for quite a while now not entertained a prolonged period in which his mind ran uninterrupted by the outside—the burden of command as _he_ would call it—demanded for quiet at last. The aides left him, the politicians from the village returned to their houses and every messenger stepped softly out of the tent, their messages to be delivered at a later time.

Half an hour later he still sat on his chair in the middle of the tent, having not moved an inch. He rolled the cane between his palms, staring at the sand to his feet. To his right, the all-important map. To his left, on the same table where he had put the report from Team Seven, an unfinished letter.

Avoidance, Danzō thought, identified the weak. And still it took him thirty-two minutes to find his way back to the table, seat himself, smooth the parchment, ink the brush, and read over the paragraphs already written. He relaxed his hand when it started to cramp around the brush.

This, he thought, was neither the first nor the last situation of this kind he had to weather, though the nature of it brought forth an emotion rather more intense than what he usually allowed himself to feel.

Rōshi of the Fiery Mountain had been set loose inside Wind Country, and he came with a pretentious if earned title. A Jinchūriki now undermined the operation, and though Uzumaki had fought fire with fire to stall him, this was a scenario not easily reproduced. The next time they met, Rōshi would be prepared.

The brush creaked before it snapped. Danzō eyed the half in his hand with distaste and reached into a small casket, pulling out another one. This one, too, he dipped into ink and held poised near the letter. As of late it seemed that all his endeavors had borne the fruits of disaster, would bear them further still if he did not intervene.

The teams sent to monitor Team Seven had been killed by Yakushi Kabuto, the Daimyo with whom he sought favor in Sukoru died, and rumors of Akatsuki had reached his ears as well. Now a Jinchūriki prowled the area, destroying what little hold he had on this country—news that was again brought by Team Seven.

It would be infantile to assume all his trouble stemmed from them, but he could not help the spark of irritation at the thought. He had separated them, had kept them close, had left them in peace. No matter what he did, they always ended up in the middle of every event that preceded, or was, a catastrophe.

For another half an hour he sat on the chair, the brush poised to write, and thought on bad luck, old friendship, and the duty to his village. Then, with precise motions, he finished the letter and sealed the document.

* * *

Sasuke pushed his vest into a corner and sat down on his bedroll. Opposite of him, Kiba was leaving the tent. He had greeted them at the gate earlier, when they had hastened through it bloodied and beaten but alive. Now as tiredness seeped in they sent him away, nicely of course, as not to hurt his feelings.

"Good work, guys. See you tomorrow," said Kiba, already outside, taking the humor with him.

Next to Sasuke, Naruto lit his pipe, took a drag, glared at the glowing disk in the dark tent, turned the pipe, let the ashes fall into the sand, put the pipe away. "We've a problem," he said.

All three nodded sedately.

"It's making me mad," Naruto said.

"We made Chūnin less than two years ago," said Sakura. She untied her hair. "It's normal that we're not the strongest around."

"I don't care about normal," Naruto said. "It's dangerous. It's unhealthy."

"Has our life been healthy before?" Sasuke said.

"I'm sick of being a punching bag for people I've never seen before," said Naruto. "It's as if they're singling us out on purpose. Orochimaru, Akatsuki, Rōshi…"

Sakura sunk her head into a barrel of fresh water, blood, grime and all. Coming up she said, "I hate those names," and brushed the wet hair back to get a better view. "The first two did single us out. Rōshi…I don't know. Accident?"

"Probably," said Sasuke.

"I dislike accidents," said Naruto. "Nothing quite like slugging it out with a Jinchūriki to get your blood flowing."

The after-mission checkup had revealed Sasuke to have taken the most direct damage from Rōshi. He touched his nose and glared at Naruto, though only half of that glare was meant for the blond. The other half traversed time and space to hit the imbecile who had conducted the checkup. Even in memory—which rolled the tape quicker than reality—the procedure had taken too long.

Silence settled again.

Minutes later Naruto said, "There's something I should tell you guys." He leaned back and avoided looking at them. "Probably should've told you sooner, but…well, it sucks, to be honest."

"Can't be much worse than the rest of today," Sakura said.

Sasuke disagreed. Everything could become worse. There was no limit, no bottom, to 'worse.' Insisting there was only made sure that once this false assumption was proven a lie it would hurt more for it.

"I'm not sure if I've got the whole Kyuubi thing under control," Naruto said.

Sasuke lowered his head.

"Meaning?" said Sakura.

"Meaning that it's getting harder to control the fox. It started at the rebel camp. Today was another victory for that piece of shit."

Sakura moved over to Naruto, inspecting him as if to find magically appearing wounds. "What else did those rebels do to you?" she said. "How could they influence the Kyuubi?"

"It's not so much about what _they_ did. I had to stay alive, somehow."

Then Naruto delivered a tale to them of a cycle which could not be more insidious if it tried. Sasuke still thought of Bijū as being vague, ethereal creatures. In his eyes he felt the Kyuubi's energy, but he had never met the source in person. To hear of a constant struggle, a give and take, half of which happened under duress, unsettled him.

"You're an idiot," Sakura said softly when Naruto's voice ebbed away. "You should've told us earlier."

"Wasn't quite that easy," said Naruto.

"What I want to know," Sasuke said, "is why you didn't burn down the place." Because that would have been, hands down, his first option.

"I thought about it."

"Thinking is a long way from doing," Sasuke said.

"I had no idea what it would do. I didn't want to rely on the Kyuubi."

"But you did," Sasuke said.

"Healing is a known factor," Naruto said, looking down on his calves and massaging them. "It patched me up often enough."

"You didn't want take chakra for fighting because of how much you would've needed," Sakura said, "or because of its purpose?"

"Both, I think."

"You used it anyway now," Sasuke said, "against Rōshi."

"I had to."

Sasuke frowned at Naruto. "And back then you didn't?"

"I didn't, no."

"They tortured you."

"They did."

"And you didn't need it?"

"No."

"I don't understand that," Sakura said. "It's the embodiment of need."

"Is it?" Naruto said. "I think there's something worse."

At which point Sasuke thought for a second, replayed today's events, and came to the conclusion that Naruto was, all in all, far too good a person to be saddled with a burden like this. Certainly a far better person than him. As a warden, Sasuke admitted, he himself would have lasted not much longer than a few weeks. Power corrupted, of course, but at which speed and to which degree, now there humans differed considerably.

"Sakura's right," Sasuke said, without bite, "you are an idiot."

"Uh-huh."

"…Thank you," said Sasuke, "for saving us today."

"No problem."

They spent a few minutes in silence, an empty one that was neither content nor tense. "What will you do now?" Sakura asked eventually. "Feel any different after fighting with it?"

"I don't think so," Naruto said. "At least not now."

"But you could feel its emotions during…"

"The torture? Yes. It seemed quite happy."

"Dangerous," said Sasuke.

"You don't have to tell me."

"If the seal grows weaker we need to tell someone about it," Sakura said.

"Jiraiya or the Hokage?" said Sasuke.

Yawning, Sakura stretched her arms. "Both would work."

"I don't want to tell them," Naruto said.

"Why?" said Sakura.

"He doesn't want them to pull him out," said Sasuke.

"They wouldn't let you two leave as well," Naruto said. He drummed with his palms on his thighs and grinned weakly. "I don't want them to know that I'm not exactly stable."

"The seal is unstable, not you," Sasuke said. "There's a difference."

"Nice of you to say that."

"What else can we do?" Sakura said. "Is there—"

Her expression morphed, as if to remember something. Then it lightened and two steps carried her over to a small, hand-made chest not far from her bedroll. She infused chakra into a seal, waited for the chest to click open, and rummaged through its contents.

Naruto looked at Sasuke, who shrugged. He had never had much desire to know what Sakura kept buried in her personal chest.

She came back with a book, seated herself in front of both of them and leafed through the pages. When her fingers stopped she turned the book over to them, pointing at the left page: A faint picture on the bottom side, a block of text on the top.

Sasuke leaned in. "The Oasis of Ike," he said. "So?"

"Read," Sakura said.

"Summarize," said Sasuke.

Sakura huffed, looking for a moment as if she would tell him to screw himself, then began recounting what she had read about the Oasis of Ike, where the first Jinchūriki of the Ichibi had learned to master his Bijū's powers. How everyone attributed this feat to the God of Tranquility, Odaya.

A quaint little story. Sasuke liked the thought of someone able to master their Bijū. But that was all it was to him, a story. A tale of long forgotten times that might hold a kernel of truth but not much more. A grain of sand in a whole desert that looked just slightly different than the rest.

"I'm not sure that's applicable to me, Sakura," Naruto said, gently. "Besides, you said it stopped working after a while, right? And how would we even get to Ike in the first place?"

"It's better than nothing," Sakura said. "We've made it to Sukoru and Bōeki Toshi. No reason why we shouldn't make it to Ike, too."

"She has a point there," said Sasuke.

"Let's keep it in mind," Naruto said. "I think we should get some shut-eye. I'm damn tired."

"Agreed."

Afterwards they tried to sleep and failed miserably for quite some time. But still they would make it, Sasuke thought when Naruto woke up beside him, sweating and panting harshly and looking at the ceiling with erratic eyes. They had always made it before.

And telling it like this more often, he thought, might make it easier to believe.

* * *

Rain battered against the roof under which Hiruzen sat and watched, from the porch of a farmer's house, as life in the camp went on. On the table in front of him lay Jiraiya's report.

Jiraiya had failed to incite an all-out war between Lightning and Water, ostensibly because the climate did not yet offer ground fertile enough for such an endeavor. Instead he had done his best to lead those two countries, if not into bloodshed, then into a dangerous game of sabotage and espionage, the destruction of Kashima's lighthouse, one of Kumo's most cherished architectural accomplishments, being the first incident in a row of many.

The political climate, Hiruzen thought, was more than just fertile, and most of the report stunk to the heavens of pretty lies.

He should be angry about this willful interpretation of his orders, should have Jiraiya brought before him to ask what went through his mind that he believed disobeying his Kage to be a viable path in life. But Hiruzen felt neither anger nor that much dissatisfaction, which surprised him yet did not. For all his vehemence on the matter, he knew Jiraiya would have never followed his command to the letter. He was too much a free spirit and pacifist to instigate bloodshed on that level.

As such Hiruzen was beset by the trust in his student at the same time as by anxiety of his involvement being noticed. He did hope though that he would not come to regret this decision. His country should not have to suffer for the weakness of two old men who had seen far too much and lacked the strength to see much more.

A conscience, he thought as he put the report away, was a rather perilous thing to have for a shinobi. Most of the time it showed itself in the worst moments.

Yet living in a world without conscience, now that seemed an impossibly bleak prospect to him.

From afar he heard barked orders as supervisors brought discipline to their shinobi and one after another groups set out to their missions. The involvement of the Daimyo's troops had not held for long. Four battles, in fact, before the rulers of both countries had recognized that throwing civilians on battlefields—and for shinobi, those soldiers were nothing but—had a rather adverse effect on the population of one's army.

Again it had been shown that the Daimyo, while important in some aspects, constituted a minor player in this tug of war between continental forces; a truth that counted for both Fire and Earth.

Hiruzen filled his pipe, lips stretching in a wry grin. His spies had reported to him of a conversation between Ōnoki and the Earth's Daimyo, and how the former ignored all advice from the latter as to how bad this was turning out for the country as a whole. Dissent, if restricted to the enemy, could become a wonderful ally.

The rain strengthened. The scent of wet grass clung to the air, a permanent and welcomed fixture in this area. It washed away the stench of blood and death, which had as of late troubled Hiruzen's stomach.

Footfall in the splashing mud made him turn around in his chair. Soaked, Nara Shikamaru held both arms in a protective cradle around a stack of scrolls. Not a single drop on any of them, Hiruzen observed. The boy, however, looked the part of an annoyed Nara who knew complaining would achieve nothing, yet nevertheless conveyed his feelings appropriately through his expression.

"Shikamaru," Hiruzen said, "good of you to be quick about things. Put them there please. I'll look them over soon." While Shikamaru placed the scrolls to other documents on a table nearby, Hiruzen turned back to the weather and said, "Have you noticed the rain, my boy? I find I rather like it. It carries away the stink of military life."

From the roof above Shikamaru, little droplets descended onto the puddle around his mud-covered sandals. "I noticed, Hokage-sama, yes."

"Good," said Hiruzen, standing up from his chair and stretching his arms. "You should enjoy life until battle calls for you again. This is the most important wisdom I can impart at such a time. Keeps you sane, or rather saner in the end."

Shikamaru squinted his eyes in a peculiar manner when searching for deeper meanings. And Hiruzen thought that the mind presented a fascinating subject. It often found nothing, took objection to that nothing, and created something. Consciously or not, lessons always formed themselves in this crucible.

When Shikamaru's contemplation ended he had either found the significance of the words—if there was any—or came to the conclusion that his Kage made fun of him. Both, Hiruzen acknowledged with a smile, were not unreasonable assumptions.

"I will try to enjoy my time, Hokage-sama."

"A wise decision," said Hiruzen. "Joy is the root of contentment. It is for which we strive the most, is it not?"

"I'm not much of a gardener."

"Then you should become one, I think. Gardeners are, to my knowledge, fulfilled and happy people."

"Perhaps."

"Try it, on your return to Konoha," Hiruzen said. "Plant a tree, watch it grow, and eventually you will come to understand. In the meanwhile, as this weather hardly lends itself to garden work, you should attend your other administrative duties. The patrols from the Suheki pass arrive in the afternoon."

Shikamaru bowed, when the footfall grew louder again.

These days, Hiruzen thought, many people brought mud on his porch.

Shikaku stood before them, soaked as well, and Shikamaru stopped walking away. "News," Shikaku said, holding out a black-lined scroll.

Hiruzen took the scroll and found it sealed with a sigil of roots spreading into the caverns of the world. This report broke the monthly-schedule routine, which made it unusual. Danzō abhorred disorderly structures.

The letter, once broken free, succeeded in being succinct and filled with news that made this rainy day worse. He had heard rumors about the Daimyo's death, the following uprising and the terrible storm, but Rōshi from Iwa was new and, quite understandably so, made Danzō nervous.

While Hiruzen geared his mind toward the task, he momentarily thought of Danzō. Writing this must not have been easy for a man as prideful as him. That he did it, still, showed nothing less than that the choice of who to leave in charge had been correct. But that, he thought, had been expected. Danzō was many things, but foremost he was the embodiment of Konoha's darker ambition. Which, too, had to be accepted since no village of killers could live without it.

Hiruzen lobbed the scroll at Shikaku. "See for yourself. Shikamaru, stay. I have a question for you, and I want to know how you would choose in such a situation." Leaning closer he added, "Imagine you have two armies available to support a frontline, but only one of them can actually move out—the other has to stay behind. Now, suppose that the first army consists of children—do you have siblings?"

"No siblings, but a cousin" Shikamaru said, "five years."

"That will do just fine," said Hiruzen. "Now, the first army consists of children a few years older than your cousin—academy aged, either still in training or barely through it. As we speak they are receiving weapon kits from their instructors and line up in formation, so they can march out at your signal. You got all that?"

"Yes," Shikamaru said. His pinched eyes looked sharp as he visualized the scene. Good, thought Hiruzen.

"The other force that you command, and which you can send off to war with a snap of your fingers, are retired veterans and the elderly—formerly trained, of course. They have served the Tree for decades, lived through war after war, have suffered endlessly for a peace, as you see, which turned out to be quite flimsy. Even now they carry more wounds with them than you count years, my boy. Now, add to them the young but wounded, carrying disabilities that made them until now not viable for frontline combat. Do you have grandparents or friends who fit this mold?"

"Yes," Shikamaru said.

"Both?"

"Yes."

"Then Shikamaru, the choice is yours. Both armies are waiting on your signal. Which one will set out?"

"To Suna?"

"To Suna, yes."

Hiruzen watched in interest as Shikamaru sat down, put both hands in a hand seal, and closed his eyes. When minutes later he rose, his eyes had sharpened yet again. He brushed off the dirt from his pants.

"So?" said Hiruzen.

"I would send both."

"That is not possible, as I told you."

"One army has to stay," Shikamaru said. "You never specified which troops the staying army has to be made up of. I propose to send a mixed force of…children and veterans to Suna. Good reflexes won't do anything against a knife that hasn't been seen. Likewise, seeing the knife but being too slow to avoid it will result in the same. This way they at least have a chance at survival. If the veterans manage to teach them enough in that time, that is.

"Well put", said Hiruzen. "The last question then. At which ratio would you divide the force? Half of it young, the other half old?"

The skin around Shikamaru's lips tightened. "Two thirds old, one third young."

"Why?"

Shikamaru looked at his father. "Do I have to spell it out?"

"The Hokage asked you a question, son. Answer it."

When Shikamaru talked, he sounded forced. "If planning past the end of this war, then the long-term strategy should favor less casualties among young shinobi. Old veterans have a decreased probability of living long, even after we won. Our assets would be more secure if the young survived to become the next, strong generation."

"Indeed," said Hiruzen.

"That—"

"—is something that has to be considered, son," Shikaku said. "To plant a tree for peace while war is amoving, and fire up the smithies as the first flowers fall on the lake, creating ripples of disturbance."

Hiruzen hummed in his throat. "It's rare to hear Sakumo's words these days."

"May I excuse myself?" Shikamaru said.

"You may," Hiruzen said. "You did well, today. Do not let us old men make you into a cynic yet."

Seeing his son leave the porch, dragging mud with him, Shikaku said, "A rather difficult task with talks like these, Hokage-sama. Are you grooming him?"

"For the hat?"

"He's a Nara," said Shikaku, "and like every Nara he would not just be miserable but in his own laziness also horrible at the job should it ever fall to him."

"Quite the frank assessment of your fellow clansmen."

Shikaku yawned. "Please excuse my disrespect, Hokage-sama, but you are avoiding the question."

"Am I grooming him? Well, you could call it that, I suppose. Every Kage needs a circle of people to trust, people whose advice he can rely on."

"And Shikamaru's going to become one of these trusted advisors?"

Hiruzen tilted his head. "His father is one of mine; I see no reason the same shouldn't hold true for the son if he showed a similar aptitude. As for whom he will be advising in the future…" Hiruzen shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Only time will tell that story. I do hope, however, to still be alive when that new Hokage takes their place."

* * *

Late afternoon. Kakashi entered the Hokage's office at the agreed time, finding the table near the sofa empty of bottles. Driven by the strangeness of this sight, his eyes settled on Tsunade, who sat bowed over a scroll. In combination with the village-wide notice of an assembly at night, he had reason to believe that this would be the end for their mutually beneficial relationship.

"You wanted to see me, Tsunade-sama?"

She put the brush away and leaned back in her chair. "Sensei asked me to assemble a force of Genin and injured to fill up our troops in Suna."

"Danzō has problems?"

"Apparently. The region is harder to pacify than he made us believe at first."

Tsunade pushed the document over for Kakashi to read.

"I want to be a part of these support forces," he said, putting the letter down after having read it.

"I thought as much," she said, rising from the high-backed chair, rolling her shoulder. "There stands nothing against you leaving. You've recovered nicely, and I believe that you're in peak condition now, likely better than you've ever been before."

Tsunade did not mention often what his part of the deal had been but that was fine. They both knew.

"You're anxious to see them," she said, standing at the large window pane and observing the bustling street below.

"I am," said Kakashi. He joined her at the window and it came to him that this was a familiar occurrence. A few years back the Third had predicted the now raging war at the same spot. Kakashi wondered whether Tsunade would make her own predictions at a time like this, continuing the legacy.

Tsunade though said nothing for quite a while, content with the view before her. The sun melted into the horizon, its last rays peeking out just over the treetops around the village before they, too, vanished. Below, the merchants picked up their wares and closed up their shops; and a few buildings down the street the violet light of a local bar buzzed to life, slowly, as if the owner first had to coax it out of its slumber.

"I need something to drink before the assembly," Tsunade then said, uttering a stressed sigh. "Up for a few before duty calls?"

Boy was he ever. Her cabinet had never disappointed so far, rather it cleared up quite succinctly why she indulged so much—aside from the obvious numbing of the mind and the temporary subversion of memories too bitter to think about all day.

"Will Shizune-san be there?" he asked.

"I don't know why you're afraid of her," Tsunade said. "All she ever does is work—Hell, I can't even remember if she's bothered you at all when you've been over."

 _Of course you can't_ , Kakashi thought, _because that is what happens when you get smashed enough not to remember what you've been talking about_.

Tsunade's attempts to bring them together—which sounded rather less nefarious than it actually was—were embarrassing. It certainly seemed as if the woman had taken a strong liking to her idea, which meant that, when the burn of liquor washed away her filters, not much kept existing in the way of reason.

In moments of drunken introspection Kakashi had admitted to himself that Shizune was a beautiful woman with a cute tick of putting her pencil to her lips when she was thinking, which she did rather often. But to him such things were irrelevant. In a different time he might have tried his luck. As things stood, however, there was but one goal to pursue—his team. Dealing with women took a certain mindset of which he currently had no possession. She did have, however, full lips and a nice blush when embarrassed.

"You can stop worrying," Tsunade said. "She's out organizing more details for the assembly. I'm sure she'll get us once it's time though. Can you live with seeing her for a few minutes, or is that too much for you as well, Hatake?"

"I think I'll manage."

* * *

Kakashi had conquered his second bottle—Tsunade clutched at her fourth—when their discussion, which had until then veered in a grandiose fashion around all the important issues, turned to his upcoming journey to Suna. By now the burning in his throat had wandered up his face and was settling comfortably on his cheeks.

"Once it's public that you're going to lead the reinforcements to Suna I'll have to inform the logistics office that you're healthy again. They asked to get an immediate notice the moment you were ready for combat."

The last part of that statement drew his lips into a smile, but the first part intrigued him. "I'm leading them?" He enunciated his words carefully. Her liquor went to the head faster than his eye could spin.

Tsunade scoffed. "Who else would I choose? You're the strongest shinobi currently in Konoha, and aside from the elders and me you're also the one with the highest decorations. It's a logical choice. You're going to lead them straight up to Suna, where you'll then quibble with Danzō about who's going to keep command."

That was a depressing prediction if he ever heard one. "Joy," he said, staring into the bottle and imagining three helpless Genin drowning in the backwash at the bottom.

"You'll be fine," said Tsunade. "Though I doubt you're going to get full command even if he'd be willing to concede it. Sensei's trusting the one-eyed mummy far too much for that to happen."

Kakashi balanced the bottle on his finger and blew straight at the bottle opening; a droning sound filled the room. "Danzō can keep his command," he said after his musical pursuits found an abrupt end in Tsunade who took the bottle away. "All I want is my team back."

"There's the off-chance that sensei will think you're too valuable for Suna," Tsunade said after a moment. "What'll you do if he calls you to the northern front the moment you set foot into the desert?"

Even in his hazy mind Kakashi knew that this was a rather dicey question which should be answered with care. His first reaction, saying that he would refuse, was tempered by the knowledge that openly admitting disobedience in front of the acting leader of the village was probably a bad thing.

"I—Shouldn't Shizune-san be here by now? I think it's almost time to get moving," he said, rising to his feet in a motion as smooth as his diversion.

Tsunade threw a look at the table strewn with bottles. "We'll know once she's here, believe me. Now sit back down and answer my question—I won't rip your head off."

Reassuring words from a woman who could actually do the deed without expending much more effort than a Ramen chef did when boiling water. Still, Kakashi sat back down and relaxed into the soft cushion behind him. He had been working with Tsunade for a while now, and while she certainly had her moments of irrationality she wasn't a dishonest person.

"I haven't thought that far," he said. "And to be honest I don't want to either. I'll cross that road when I get to it."

"Fair enough," she said, though she looked as though she had hoped for more. "I'll write sensei and tell him that I think it to be of vital strategic importance to have you stationed in Wind Country."

"I doubt he'll fall for that, but still," he said, "thank you."

"He won't," said Tsunade, "but the moment my word loses its weight with him without a good explanation is the moment I pack my things and leave. Besides, this is all hypothetical. He might not even try to recall you anyway. Any Jinchūriki would be a challenge, but I fought Rōshi twice in the second war… He's no pushover. You actually _are_ needed over there."

A turning key announced Shizune's arrival a few minutes later. A hectic entry followed, her exasperated glance finding first the table, then turning unfriendly upon recognizing Kakashi himself.

 _As if I was the one to instigate this…_

* * *

The assembly hall was crammed with shinobi, and Ino made her way through the throngs of people in a slow manner, careful not to bump into anyone. She stood half a head taller than most people here, who either came fresh from the academy or were walking bowed, supporting themselves on walking aids. Then there were the ones that had shrunken during their life, the old ones with more wrinkles than she had hairs.

For their benefit, mostly, did she walk this way. Pushing the aged to the ground appealed little to her, her parents had taught her better than that. Nervous chatter filled the hall around her. It came from all the anxious Genin who carried lots of misconceptions about what would await them. "I'll smash Iwa to pieces," she heard one boy say. "Do you think we'll fight for real?" a girl asked and was quickly assured by her teammate that of course they'd be fighting for real, and that throwing shuriken at enemies would be great, there was no question about that.

Ino shook her head as she passed group after group in search for a familiar face. She found Shino leaning against a concrete pillar at the other side of the hall—it figured that he could not have been anywhere close to her starting point.

"Ino-san," Shino said, tilting his head. "I expected to see you earlier."

"Hello to you too, Shino."

Ino smiled to take the sting out of her words. In the last months she had met the Aburame quite often when he had visited the hospital to get a checkup, or had offered to train with her.

Ino panned her gaze around the hall, looking for the third person of their little group that should, at least in theory, be there. When she balanced on her toes to get a better view, a sting rushed up from her thigh to her collarbone. She ignored it, used to the hurt by now. Tsunade-sama had declared it unlikely that the pain from the injury would ever vanish entirely, for that it had been treated too late. But Ino could walk and fight again, like Sakura, and that had to be enough. Her leg also warned her about bad weather and when she should take rain-resistant clothes with her.

"You think her clan will ease up?" she said.

"I doubt there is much her father can do now. This"—Shino nodded at the gathered mass of people before them—"isn't something he has any influence over, no matter his political weight. If the situation is dire enough to call in the sick, she will have to fight too."

"You're right," Ino said. A minute later, "I think I see her."

A crown of dark blue hair was weaving through the crowd, closing in on them. Ino watched it proceed, and after a murmured apology to someone, Hinata was with them, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry for being late," she said, slightly out of breath. "Hidoki-san still needed his medicine and I couldn't just leave him without it."

"It's okay, Hinata," Ino said. "It hasn't started yet so we're all on time anyway. Now"—she glanced at them, rubbing her thumb and her index finger together—"let's get to the juicy part. I take your bets lady and gentleman—where will we go to? My vote's North. I bet Shikamaru mucked things up and they need help now."

"We really shouldn't bet on such things, Ino-san," Hinata said, her eyes flickering through the room, looking if someone had overheard them. "And I think Shikamaru does just fine under Hokage-sama's guidance."

"Ah, Hinata, poor innocent Hinata…" Ino slung an arm around the heiress' shoulder and squeezed her to her side. "You have no idea how deep the lazy runs in that guy. I tell you—if it meant postponing work and watching clouds, Shikamaru would give up the whole border in a heartbeat."

"I still don't think he would do that," said Hinata. "Shikamaru can be… _occupied_ with clouds at times, but he is still a capable shinobi."

Ino threw her hands into the air. "Occupied, she says. Occupied! Obsessed more likely… But I guess you're right. He probably wouldn't cause the downfall of a whole army—too much work to clean up afterward." She grinned naughtily at Hinata. "That doesn't excuse you from making a bet though. So, what will it be?"

Shino cleared his throat. "Leaving aside badgering Hinata-san and your lack of faith in your teammate, I believe that Suna is the likelier choice. I am willing to supplement the pool with five Ryo to that effect."

"Who's badgering who, one-arm?" Ino said.

Shino's glasses slid an inch down his nose, and he peered at her over their rims. She followed the direction of his gaze from her face down to her thighs, where her injury sat. Point succinctly made, the Aburame fixed the position of his glasses. Ino stuck out her tongue at him and Shino gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, lips twitching.

Hinata wanted to say something, but the lights went out and a large cone of light illuminated the podium at the front. When Tsunade-sama walked up the stairs to the dais the hall fell silent—not even the adrenalin-filled Genin talked.

Then Ino saw who was walking behind her and a curse caught in her throat.

That little, sadistic…but also quite helpful and really not all that little son of a—She would recognize that slanted mountain of silver hair everywhere. It had been hovering over her often enough when she had ended up again and again on her back, as he continued to thrash her in their spars.

He was quite hot though and she would not really have minded had that hair hovered above her on other occasions too. Sakura really had it all—Sasuke, the hot sensei, and now after some development, even Naruto.

Life was far from easy for Ino, and it did not get any easier after Tsunade began her speech, voice booming.

* * *

Kakashi had not said a word since he took his position behind Tsunade and stared into the crowd before him. Few returned his look, the older ones who knew of him. Over half of those he saw would die soon, which made his current observation a rather desolate one.

"We are proud shinobi of Konoha, no matter our age," he heard Tsunade shout, "and we will show them that ours is a Tree not easily uprooted. No matter how the storm roars, it will never break us!"

Rhetoric that held little value for those who had experienced war already. Not many of the old ones would take any strength from it—but they were not the ones this speech had been intended for in the first place. They had already bled for Konoha and would defend her to their dying breaths, which, realistically, was not that far away for some.

Tsunade was talking herself hoarse for the Genin who had never seen a battlefield before. Whose only experience came from their lessons at the academy, much like it had been for his charges back then.

The first battle would test them, and quite a few would break under the strain. But a few might remember Tsunade's words, and they would find strength in them, and in the ideal of Konoha, and they would fight for their comrades and themselves, and maybe, just maybe, they might make it out of the nightmare alive.

That was all one could really hope for, and Kakashi knew that for Tsunade this was enough reason to keep talking.

Slowly her speech wound down and she began addressing the organizational issues, and soon the first groups of people were leaving. He saw his team's former classmates among those exiting the hall; at least they had experience _and_ youth—a commodity in these parts.

"Well, that's that. Come on, Kakashi, I'll show you an additional charge of yours. Then we continue where we left off earlier. No need to waste your last evening sleeping."

He could live with that. Tsunade did not wait for him and began moving. Kakashi followed dutifully.

 _A charge of his?_

* * *

Kakashi followed Tsunade all the way up to a building he had seen a few times from the outside, but for which he had never found any reason to enter. It was a simple house, two storeys tall, wooden paneling and two small windows covering the front. There was no entrance at the side toward the street, but Tsunade showed him through a small archway beside the house that led them into a yard of brick-hard clay, from where they could get into the building.

A guard sat bored on the short flight of stairs up to the door, tossing a kunai lazily up and down. When the guard noticed them she startled, missing her latest toss and the kunai hit the ground with a clattering before rolling away from her feet.

Poor girl, but Tsunade had better things to do than scold a bored guard. She walked right past the girl who muttered a hasty apology and stowed her kunai away. Kakashi did his best to put the girl at ease, but it seemed his smile only scared her more.

Well there was nothing he could do about that.

Together with Tsunade he walked up the stairs and entered the house—all around them a subtle thrum of chakra went through the walls, weaving into a complex net spanning the whole property. They went past a few marked doors until Tsunade paused before one that had a golden plaque next to the knob.

Kakashi glanced at the name on it, confirming his suspicion. "Interesting," he said.

Tsunade knocked at the door and when an affirmative noise came from the other side she placed her hand above a circle of small scribbles etched into the wooden wall. Kakashi felt a strand of chakra loosening itself before twining around another, like intricate lacework creating itself. He would have extended his senses farther, to take in more of the detailed seal work, but when the door opened both went inside.

Standing next to the table, the youngest son of the late Kazekage stared at them. He had shaggy red hair reaching his shoulders and wore simple black slacks and a pair of gray sandals. A long-sleeved crimson coat hung on a hook at the wall behind him.

Kakashi had gathered general information from reports made before and after the invasion. But those had called Gaara a bloodthirsty lunatic soon to be dead or put away in an asylum if all things went right. The turquoise eyes staring back at Kakashi spoke a different language. They were biting if thoughtful, reaching far deeper than should be possible for a boy this age. They held no insanity.

On the table sat a vase with a spray of heathers—a peculiar choice of flowers, Kakashi found. Beside the vase were several stacks of books and scrolls. One book lay open, a piece of paper with some half-finished notes next to it.

"Tsunade-dono," Gaara said with a slight dip of his head. He turned to look at Kakashi and repeated the gesture. "Kakashi-san."

So the boy knew his name—how much had his minions told him then? According to Tsunade they had cared for the redhead. Well, mostly Sakura and Naruto. Sasuke had social skills rivaling Orochimaru's when it came to people outside his team.

Tsunade said, "Gaara-san, I believe you received my message?"

"I did," Gaara said, his hand trailing over the table in an absent manner. "I…did not think the time would come that quickly though."

Looking at the stacked books and glancing around the room they were in, the boy appeared wistful, as if leaving the place that held him imprisoned was something he would only do reluctantly. Then the pensive air around him dissipated. He drew up his shoulders, his eyes went back to being calculating needles, and when Gaara went over to the rack and slipped the crimson coat over his shoulders, Kakashi realized what Tsunade and the Third had planned for the boy. Kakashi had suspected it for a while now, but this striking image proved their decision beyond any doubt.

"It seems congratulations are in order, Kazekage-sama," Kakashi said, sketching a small bow.

Gaara did not smile as he tied the leather knots of his coat. "Not yet," he said, closing the open book and putting it on the stack to all the others. "Not for a while. There are things—many things that have to be done first. I…" He paused and glanced at Tsunade. "When will I go?"

"Soon," Tsunade said. "You will deploy in a few hours from the west gate—The troop movement starts at sunrise. Kakashi will—"

"Actually, Tsunade-sama," Kakashi said, "why don't you let him come himself?" He turned to Gaara. "You never saw much of the village, did you?"

Gaara shook his head.

"I think it would be good to let you visit it a free man for once, wouldn't you agree? I heard the view from the Hokage mountain is spectacular—Naruto often went there. You might want to check it out. If Tsunade-sama allows, that is…"

Tsunade hummed thoughtfully. "I see no problem with that. I trust that you'll find your way to the west gate tomorrow morning."

Gaara nodded. The boy was not much for talking it seemed, quite unlike another Jinchūriki Kakashi knew.

They cleared a few issues afterward, about what kind of trip Gaara had to expect, and then left the redhead to himself. On the way out Tsunade put her hand on the sealing circle again but then, as if remembering something, drew her hand back and left the building, Kakashi on her heels in a leisurely stroll.

* * *

"What you did wasn't exactly risk-free, Kakashi," Tsunade said once they were in her office to which she had inexplicably led him.

Leaning against the wall she had punted him into a few months earlier, Kakashi said, "You have a tracking seal on him."

"First thing Jiraiya added to the seal. I want you to take it off the moment he becomes the Kazekage. Still, he technically is a prisoner until tomorrow, and even then it can't be said that he'll be really free."

"My point exactly. Naruto and Sakura did good work—he's completely different from what the reports stated. Jiraiya-sama strengthening the seal probably helped too—It can't hurt to let him make a memory as a free man. He's going to rule Suna soon enough—the first Kazekage well-intentioned toward Konoha in a while even, I'd say."

"You place a lot of faith in him staying that way then. Due to the high demand at the fronts, Gaara hasn't been examined by a Yamanaka in two years. Who knows what he might think of us now? He's been a prisoner for a long time now."

"I have faith in my team, Tsunade-sama. As long as they believe him to be a friend, then he is a friend. That's all there is to it."

"Uh-huh. The brats really did you in, Kakashi. I wouldn't be surprised if you're going to read their every wish from their lips."

His smile widened into a grin that edged on the dangerous. "Well, I wouldn't go that far. Truth be told, I wonder how long it'll take them to wish me back to Orochimaru once I'm with them again." For a moment he let himself indulge in memories of training past, then he refocused on the issue at hand. "Do you think Gaara will be accepted as the Kazekage?"

Tsunade shook her head. "Not at first, and I doubt he will have a peaceful reign even after taking the hat. Sensei is counting on the strong stance toward blood in Suna. Every Kazekage so far had, in some form, a blood relation with his predecessor. He is the only one available for now, and with the Ichibi tamed it might go over smoothly."

"I doubt it'll be that easy."

"It never is," Tsunade said, "but it's a good option for us. If he stays on friendly terms with your team, Konoha will have a steadfast ally in him."

"He will still have to earn the trust of his people."

Tsunade sighed. "That is something he will have to do on his own. There is no help we can offer him in this regard."

The talk did not last much longer. Soon Kakashi found himself ambling through the village on his own, paper lanterns hanging from lines above swinging in the wind. The festival to remember the Fourth's sacrifice would commence in a few days—curious then, that almost no shinobi would be there to celebrate it.

* * *

The light was dimmed in the clay house Team Seven and Kiba had found for themselves for the special occasion of this evening. The table was filled with an assortment of food, nothing pretentious but everything they had managed to save over the last week. There was no alcohol anywhere, but Kiba had managed to procure an interesting kind of tobacco that relaxed in ways Sakura had not thought possible before, and to which Naruto had convinced her with rhetoric that should have seen _him_ as a politician.

The Inuzuka sprawled on the large cushion, relaxed, having lost his shirt a while ago as Suna had played host for sweltering periods of heat these last few days. Naruto and Sasuke had followed suit soon after and having long lost any shame in front of her teammates, Sakura had slipped out of her shirt immediately after.

Kiba liked that, as far as she could tell, and he accepted the situation with a remarkable flexibility of mind.

Naruto threw the dice onto the table with an exaggerated motion and his earring jingled slightly. He had received it from them earlier to celebrate his sixteenth birthday. They were not big on presents, none of them, and most of the time in the last years their birthdays had come and gone almost unnoticed with barely more than a few friendly slaps on the back and some nice words—grunted in Sasuke's case, who always seemed to utter them in great reluctance.

This time though was different and Sasuke had easily accepted that spending a few coins on the blond would not be amiss. Naruto's imprisonment with the rebels had seen his Magatama earring ripped from his earlobe and buried in the sand, soon to be forgotten in a haze of pain and trauma.

They commissioned a new one for this day and Naruto had thanked them profusely for it. Kiba had told them that a birthday like this one would not do without a celebration. Now they were here.

"You cheating asshat!" Naruto said, his eyes narrowing to slits as he glared at Sasuke. The dice had been rolling good for him during the last throw but Sasuke had pushed the table on accident and now the dice turned one side more and landed on a useless number.

"Hn. I apologized already," Sasuke said. "No need to get so worked up about it."

"Cheating on his birthday is a dick move, Uchiha," Kiba said, and never once did his eyes stray from Sakura. In a way it was flattering, but it seemed that he, unused to this, would not pay attention to anything else quite unlike her teammates who were bickering like children.

"Kiba, you're staring," she said.

"I know," he answered, reaching for his own small pipe and stuffing it, again not once looking away.

"Will you stop staring sometime soon?"

"Unlikely."

Sakura turned to her teammates with a huff, choosing to ignore the Inuzuka for now. "Why do you think Danzō had us quartered into the city?"

Naruto let go of Sasuke and shrugged, mirroring Kiba's pipe movement. "We're not the only ones. The same's happened to a bunch of other people—I spoke with Hikari, her team's here too—Shiba's also around. I guess he's making place for something, maybe a project?"

"We're getting reinforcements," Sasuke said.

"How'd you know?"

The Uchiha dipped his bread in a red paste. "Logic. We fought Rōshi. Then there's the famine and the Daimyo…Danzō has so many problems I'd be surprised if he didn't ask for help."

Naruto hummed. "Danzō letting go of his pride? You're delusional, bastard. There's no way that guy asked for help. Nope. No way. I worked with him, remember? Guy's got an ego the size of the ocean."

"You'd bet on it?"

Naruto slipped a small bag with coins from his belt and threw it on the table with a clang. "I fucking well do. Your turn, Uchiha."

Sasuke raised him another bag of coin and Sakura was feeling for her purse when a treble pitch like that of a siren shattered Suna. All four in the room jumped to their feet, quickly slipped into their gear and rushed out to the balcony and over the roofs toward the highest tower they could find.

The sound came again and Sasuke hissed as he pressed a palm to his left ear.

"He's really overdoing it," Naruto ground out between his teeth.

Sakura, too, found that Kotetsu liked his shell horn a bit too much. He seldom got to use it and now, an occasion presenting itself, made the most of it.

Arriving at a good vantage point they surveyed the horizon and found that hundreds of fiery torches lit up the evening sky at the horizon, shaping into a thick rope that crossed the desert outside Suna.

"Fuck me running…"

Sakura snickered as Naruto absentmindedly handed Sasuke the money once he saw that Konoha had come.

"Looks like things will get a bit easier now," Naruto said.

"Don't jinx it," she said.

"Yes, Naruto, don't jinx it."

Sakura's eyes widened at the new voice which sounded so familiar it hurt. The breath caught in her throat. She wheeled around, taking in the presence behind them, opened her mouth, closed it again. She had wondered what she would say when they met, but all her preparation amounted to nothing when actually needed.

Naruto and Sasuke struggled with the same problems; Kiba gave them a quick wave and vanished, sensing that this was not something to intrude upon.

"I must say, I am disappointed that you didn't notice me until I was close enough to slit your throats."

And just like that the spell was broken.

She smiled her sweetest smile at the man, clasping her hands behind her back and leaning forward. "You haven't taught us right then, Kakashi-sensei, or we would've learned it already. The failures of the teacher should not reflect on his students, don't you think so too?"

Under his mask she saw his lips shape into a dangerous smile. "I admit to have been remiss in my duties, Sakura, but that is something easily redeemable. I think you will really, really like what I planned for you. Especially now that your bodies are grown enough to endure a heavier strain."

Sakura felt the color in her cheeks vanish for a second, before she found her voice again. "You will find that—"

In a concerted effort, her teammates stopped her from getting them into even more trouble. Sasuke slapped his hand over her mouth, silencing her. Naruto slipped in front of her and began talking, in a way eerily reminiscent of older times, as if Kakashi's presence alone had broken something loose.

"Jolly good to see you, sensei. It's been a while, eh? Hard to get acquainted again so quickly so don't mind her, okay? She's a bit rough around the edges—" Naruto shook his head. "No sensibility that one, really. But she means well. Let's give it some time before we resume the training, don't you think that'd be great? You know, just getting to know each other again and learning how to appreciate the other person. We can show you Suna—fabulous village, really. I'm a teacher at the academy here, funny thing, eh? Well you'll see all that of course once we show you but no need to keep it silent and—"

It started small, almost inaudibly, but soon there was a foreign noise, like hiccups almost, growing into something larger the more Naruto talked. Before long it echoed over Suna's rooftops and Sakura realized with a start—Kakashi was laughing. It struck her that this was the first time she—or any of them—had heard that sound.

Kakashi stopped abruptly. "Nice try, Naruto." He stared at all three of them. "We'll begin training tomorrow afternoon. Be ready." Then, more softly, he added, "And… _thank you_ ," before vanishing in a swirl of leaves.

Just like that he was gone again and for a second Sakura wondered whether she had imagined all this and if it was Kiba's fault for getting them this weird tobacco.

"…I can't believe he'll make us train the moment we have this crazy reunion."

"Hn."

"He's…Kakashi-sensei? I guess…"

* * *

Many awkward things had happened to Kakashi in his life so far, on missions as well as during his normal life in Konoha. Knowing Maito Gai had made sure of that, as did knowing the Fourth and his wife who had never been averse to playing a prank or two themselves. Kakashi had learned from the best of them to roll with the punches and not let things like walking in on Anko and Gai bother him too much. Green Beast indeed.

But, he reflected, nothing had been quite as awkward as that reunion with his team just now. It started off good, and then quickly descended into—well, it did not go as he had planned it. God they had grown so much; the last time he saw them they hadn't even reached up to his chest. Now they were well past his shoulders and still it had been far too easy to slip back into an old routine and play their teacher.

They weren't Genin anymore though. They were Chūnin now, experienced ones at that, and seeing them had only brought home the point that yes, they had grown and yes, he had not been there for it, and that it had been life and not his guidance which had caused this change. Kakashi found that the thought was strangely disheartening.

He had thanked them in the end, had played it cool. And he was sure that they got it even though it felt like it was too little.

Kakashi shook his head and made his way through Suna and toward the building at the edge of the village, near the wall, from which Danzō commanded this ragtag army. Upon arrival Kakashi had sought him out, gave a quick notice that they'd be talking later that evening, and had then excused himself to look for his team.

Just as he had found them, the horn was blown, and he knew that the army which he had left in the capable hands of an old veteran before setting out to be in Suna earlier had arrived.

Well that talk with Danzō was coming. Kakashi entered the room, nodding to the guards, categorizing the people inside. Gaara was there, as was Danzo himself and men of Suna origin. Their layered white robes and green-colored shawls gave them away. One had a few gray hairs twining in a strand and sticking out of his nose. He was glaring at Gaara who returned the look with a steady one of his own.

Kakashi was sure they were all very delicate and sensible people, and that before long they'd all get along just fine. As if to prove him right, the old woman beside Nose-Hair lifted her lips in a smile directed at Gaara. A contemptuous smile, but a smile nonetheless.

As long as they hurled contempt and not daggers Kakashi was okay with that. He catalogued the woman under the name Red for the rather colorful sandals she wore, which fit not at all with the bland gray of her robe, and panned his gaze further down the room.

Jikan, a man of medium height now dwindled down by age to a dwarf-like stature, stood next to Danzō, shivering finger tracing lines on the map as he explained the route they took. An experienced and retired veteran of three wars, Jikan had more years weighing on his back then Danzō himself.

And then there was Danzō himself, leaning slightly on the cane and contemplating the map in front of him. If he was irritated by the brittle voice and stuttering explanation he didn't show it. Danzō seldom showed what he thought. But he was nodding thoughtfully, respectfully even to Jikan as the latter finished up his explanation

Duty done, Jikan shuffled out of the room and Kakashi took his place. He nodded in passing to the two Suna councilors who hadn't noticed him, slightly amused by their jumpy reaction to his appearance. He was sure they knew of him, and probably of his week-long stay in their dungeons, too.

Kakashi flashed a friendly smile as Danzō addressed them: "Starting where we left off—It is imperative that the Council of Suna stands behind this decision. This young man," Danzō nodded at Gaara, "is the only candidate available, you know that as well as I do."

"I do not dispute that blood is as important as always," Noise-Hair said, "just that his ascension will not go over well with the general population. You know what he contains. They know it, too. And they will see not a changed man willing to lead them into a better future, but the demon that haunted them in the past."

Kakashi found that he sounded honest for a politician.

Red Shoes not so much. Her glare never once left Gaara. "It is clear that he has been in your custody for a long time, Danzō-dono," she said and nothing more. Somehow she made it sound like an insult to all present but her.

A mighty useful talent for making enemies. If there was one man you didn't want as an enemy though it was the current commander of Konoha troops in Suna. Danzō's lips twitched into a sharp little thing resembling the edge of a razor more than it did a smile. "I agree that he has enjoyed Konoha's generosity for a long time," he was saying, "but let us not forget what madness put him there in the first place, shall we, honored councilwoman?" The words 'we sent you packing' were left unsaid but hung heavy like smoke in a closed room. Kakashi found that he quite liked Danzō when the man was concentrating on common enemies and not on internal politics. "Now, I ask that you consider all of your options carefully. He will not ascend for quite some time, but it is important that you are seen supporting him."

Red Shoes looked like she might protest but Nose-Hair laid a hand on her shoulder and shook his head softly. They excused themselves shortly after and left under a lot of grumbling.

"Gaara-san," Danzō said, "we will speak in more detail tomorrow. The Kazekage's old residence is still intact."

Gaara left them too, and only Kakashi and Danzō remained. Things would surely turn to internal politics now, and that was something Kakashi wasn't all that hot about. He still pinned his gaze on the man across and waited for him to speak.

It was funny in a sense: two men, both sporting exactly one eye, staring at each other as if the most beautiful woman sashayed in front of them and they just couldn't take their eye off her. Well without the lusty emotions of course. Kakashi wasn't sure Danzō could even feel those in his advanced age.

Danzō broke the silence at last: "I assume you have found them in good health?"

"I did."

They were silent again. Somewhere outside a guard laughed. The uncomfortable silence stretched farther. There was a lot that could be discussed, topics easy to squabble over that would take hours of dedicated debate to solve—chiefly who would continue to command the troops now that they had led both armies together.

Danzō seemed ready for it, expecting even.

Too bad Kakashi was all out of dedication for debate before they even began. "Mah…I think it will be for the best if you remain as acting commander, Councilor Danzō. The people here are used to you, and the ones I brought haven't had the time to cling to me just yet. They'll take the switch easily."

"Your condition?"

Because that was what it boiled down to in the end. He would let Danzō have his command without making any trouble, all in return for the one thing he came here for in the first place. "My team," Kakashi said, voice flinty. "They'll work under me again and we'll take missions together."

All in all not a bad deal, Kakashi thought, and Danzō took it after only a moment's contemplation. There wasn't much to ponder after all. Kakashi had just handed him his deference on a silver platter in return for taking a team of constant troublemakers off his shoulders.

Danzō nodded gravely, then motioned him out of the room. "That will be all then, Hatake-san."

A few years ago Kakashi might have taken umbrage at such a dismissal but here and now he just tilted his head before leaving the room and Danzō behind. Time had an interesting way of shifting your priorities.

* * *

 **AN:** There we go, that's it for this chapter. Kakashi is back in action, Gaara has a long way ahead of him, and Hiruzen likes to try his hand at philosophy when it rains. I hope you enjoyed it, folks. Leave a review if there's anything you want to comment on. Cheers.


	14. Curved IV

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Curved – IV**

* * *

 _"Where were we?" he asked._

 _"Where are we ever?" she said. "Where we were, as we were!"_

* * *

Come morning, Sasuke slid out of his bed while Sakura woke Naruto with a gentle slap to the face. After Kakashi left the blond had kept them up far into the night, and the mirror showed Sasuke's eyes to be reddened. He scoffed at his reflection. Eyes that were red without Sharingan held no value to him.

He splashed his face with water, then said, "We'll meet up before going to Kakashi?" as he strapped his sword to the small of his back.

Naruto wiped at his eyes. "Sure. Afternoon, right?"

"Southgate," said Sakura. She mumbled around the hairband in her mouth, which she then used to tie back her hair. "Sensei will find us there easily. And don't let the old crone get on your nerves, Sasuke. We need you functional today."

"Hn."

Sasuke left the tent and made his way to Chiyo's backyard. The village teemed with life these days, now even more so as a bulk of shinobi had taken up housing inside the village. Opinions on the decision were split, as always with such matters. And the consequences, if there were any, would reveal themselves in time.

On his way he came by a local provision store that had been stocked with supplies just after Team Seven fought Rōshi. The kunoichi in the group leaving it told her friends that with the reinforcements they would get to see many new faces in the Hole. Her friend joked about arthritis and diapers, and all three laughed as they rounded the corner. Sasuke wondered whether they knew that four shinobi had died to get them the food they carried, and that there had been a Jinchūriki standing between them and their rations.

But it did not matter in the end. Yesterday the reinforcements had brought with them enough supplies to last months and Rōshi could tear up the countryside for a year with no further damage to them. As bars opened up again and the market lived through a phase of rejuvenation, morale would likewise increase.

Moving up the stairs to Chiyo's, Sasuke tried to ease his frown. Peaceful. That's what it was. Too peaceful. It made him uneasy, more than he would like to admit. Whenever times had been calm, they stopped to be just that shortly after. And always what had ruined them was far worse than that which came before.

In Chiyo's yard a surprise awaited him. The old crone stood next to her dried up fountain, voice suffused with iron as she addressed the person across her. A few chakra strings were wrapped around her finger. "You! What are you doing here?"

"I came to inquire about your health, Chiyo-sama."

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. Gaara sounded contrite.

"You mean the leg you nearly mangled, eh, boy?"

"I did not…I am in control now," Gaara gave as way of explanation. The hesitation slid away and his voice grew in substance. "The seal is stable now—I do not hear Shukaku anymore, Chiyo-sama."

"'nd what do you want from me—brag'n about it?"

"I will become the Kazekage." The sentence shut up Chiyo in a way that filled Sasuke with envy.

"You Kazekage, boy? Don't'cha make me laugh! You killed too many of 'em."

At which point Sasuke decided that he did not care to hear much more of this internal squabble. They could take care of their differences another time. He flared his chakra, making himself noticeable, and went into the backyard.

"Uchiha-san," Gaara said.

"What do ye want, brat? Can't ye see we have a serious discussion here?"

"I only hear you shouting, woman," Sasuke said. "That's not much of a discussion."

"You—"

Gaara shook his head. "I just came to inform you, Chiyo-sama. You're Suna's eldest advisor and—"

"—and that's important for becom'n Kazekage, eh? How thoughtful of ye to give me notice. Now both of you leave!" Sasuke stayed. He had a need for exercises and the old woman provided beneficial ones. When Gaara did not move either, Chiyo became even louder: "Move! Leave! I've no time for ye brats today!"

Sasuke scowled at her, to no visible effect. Unsatisfied by how the morning turned out, he decided that he would wait an hour or two before asking again. That should be a sufficient amount of time to calm down. He was descending the stairs down to the village, when Gaara joined him. Neither had a proclivity to talking, so they kept silent, which suited Sasuke. At the bottom of the stars, however, Gaara broke that temporary bond.

"Are Naruto and Sakura well?"

"Yes."

"Can you…tell them that I am here?"

"Hn."

The exchange satisfied both and while Sasuke took the path back to his tent, Gaara made for the inner city.

* * *

Dreams were supposed to be ephemeral, Sakura thought. A journey into insanity that dealt with the reality around you. What you remembered of dreams were snapshots from that journey—photos that a few seconds later should lose color and fade back into black nothing, forgotten.

What then of those that refused? They kept being vivid and stayed with you, and eventually you found out they were not so much insanity as memory, and that was the reason why they seemed sane and so different from the others.

Ambling alongside the blue-roofed buildings of Suna, she kept remembering her late dreams as memories of when she sat on her father's lap and they were both crying because a week ago her mother had died. She had asked him questions and he said that he did not know, but he always stroked her hair and added that she should keep asking questions, no matter which, because he was glad for her voice. He might not know the answer, but they would search for it together and they would find the answer, then, surely, because together they could do anything. She had always smiled at that, when he made the world easier for a moment, and she still remembered the smell of his aftershave when she pushed her face against his chest and squeezed him with both arms as if he would run away should she ever let go.

But that was a long time ago. Years in which she learned how to kill in different ways, each trumping the next in efficiency. About those she would not ask her father. He had made clear long ago that looking for answers together depended on her staying far away from the life of a shinobi.

Near the crossroad that separated the green district from the blue, Sakura rounded a corner, took an alleyway Naruto had shown her, and found herself near his school, green fabric hanging in stripes between the windows. She could hear his voice from inside the walled-off yard, harsh but intermingled with occasional laughter, and also the high voices of children, disgruntled and exhausted, talking in stuttering pauses and gasping for air.

She passed the school, thankful for the opportunity Naruto had received in teaching them. His humor remained cynic at times—which she not necessarily condemned—but each time he returned from a day of work, his mood seemed improved. It took innocence to help the jaded, Sakura thought, though she doubted Naruto would ever return to the way he had been. To her, the way his humor increasingly turned dark at some moments always stood in stark contrast to the genial side he showed at other times. It often made her think that the rebels had won in creating a split in him, and that it might take a long while until the problem was resolved, if it ever was.

Minutes later, a statue of a man holding an abacus marked her destination. The statue stood on a plaza three streets away from the school, ringed by regal-looking buildings, columns stemming the triangular roofs above each entrance. From the top of each column unfurled a green banner with a symbol denoting the purpose of the building. The plaza was clean. Robed people either hastened between the buildings, carrying documents, or ambled across the area, talking in measured voices.

Unsure of which building she needed to enter, Sakura went for a man sitting on a fountain: white beard tastefully cut, green robes lined with silver. She approached him and bowed. "Excuse me," she said. "Can I have a moment of your time?"

"My time is yours, kunoichi-san," the man said, shading his face against the sun. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for the population register."

"Now that is a dusty old cave you're searching for," said the man. "You will find it two buildings east, behind the office for agrarian concerns." He took his time to rise from the edge of the fountain, dusted off his robe, and put his hands together in front of his stomach so that his long sleeves hid them. "If you wish I can show you the way."

"I wouldn't want to impose," Sakura said.

His beard twitched. "Have I made the impression that I lack time? But," he said, "I admit to my offer not being entirely free of self-interest."

Which Sakura had expected the moment he started talking. Self-interest was such a popular thing.

"Oh?" she said, as they began walking.

"I only wish to enquire about your reason for visiting the population register. Please take it as the curiosity of a bored old man."

That, she decided, was a reasonable request for an official to ask. And for once she had nothing to hide. The real reason for her visit would not reach his ears, of course, but the ostensible one? She could indulge an old man in that.

"I'm looking for a man called Sorashi Yura," she said.

The man stopped. They halted in the shade of two palms. "Sorashi-san? If that is the case we can stop our journey, as I know where he lives. But," he said, "now you really have roused my interest. Whatever could you want with him, as he is now?"

"As he is now?"

"You do not know?"

"I only know him by name," said Sakura. "I want to ask him a few questions."

"Questions?"

Sakura smiled. "That is none of your concern."

"Of course," said the man. "Excuse me if I sounded presumptuous. For a moment I forgot your trade."

"No problem," she said. "Can you tell me what I don't know about him?"

"Well," said the man, "if all you know is his name, then everything I should say." He laughed. "Forgive an old man his joke. Sorashi-san has had quite a difficult past. Fuel, I often assumed, for the beauty and sheer magnificence which he endowed on his pictures. Artists, even here, always seem such troubled souls. Maybe it is the conflict in their minds that enables them to express themselves as such."

"He's a good artist?" Sakura said.

"He was," the man said, leading her back through the green district and to the fountain where she had found him. "One of the best, I dare say. I heard one of his pictures has found its way into the Daimyo's palace in Tanyū."

"That _is_ an honor," she said. In that comment she felt confident. From all the time she spent at court, one thing stood out: subpar quality would not even make it an inch past the gates. "What happened?"

"A tragedy, apparently. Enough for Sorashi-san to break down, a state that lasted now for more than a decade, if not longer. Once a month he comes down from the mountains, buys supplies, and then shuts himself in again. It is a sad thing to watch. He seems an undead almost."

"Tragedy? What kind?"

"Now that is the question, is it not?" he said. "I myself was not in Suna when it happened. And if you ask what "it" is, then I profess to be clueless. No one seems to know, which is the real mystery." They had reached the statue with the abacus again, and the man said, "I do not know what questions you wish to ask him, but I doubt you will get an answer to any of them."

"I'll try my luck," she said.

"Then I wish you Odaya's blessing, kunoichi-san. You'll find his house when you leave Suna to the west and from there take the path up the mountains. You can't miss it. There is a large acacia right in front of it."

Memorizing the simple direction, Sakura bowed to the man. "Thank you for your help."

"My pleasure," the man said.

Then he sat back down on the fountain, and Sakura left the administrative district of Suna.

* * *

She had just passed the last thoroughfare before the tall gate that led out of West Suna when Sasuke joined her, coming from the northern districts. The shadows of the buildings pointed not yet in the right direction for noon, so it struck her as too early. He walked with his hands in his pockets, carrying himself in a dissatisfied way that, measured by her knowledge of him, meant his morning had been far from good. She kept on moving to the gate, past an arguing pair of shinobi, a group of kids chasing a ball, and three tittering old women sitting on a shaded bench. Sasuke met her at the gate.

"You found him?" said Sasuke.

"Up the mountains," she said. "He's a recluse. What happened?"

"Gaara will become Kazekage."

"That…I actually expected that, though it's rather soon. He arrived only yesterday."

"Not common knowledge yet," Sasuke said.

Two shinobi standing guard at the gate documented their names. Sakura signed with a flourish, smiling at the young man with the shoulder-length black hair, and he looked down quickly, face flushed. She remembered him from the Hole. He had been so distracted from his face being pressed to her chest that he hardly put up any defense against the consecutive blows to his side.

Outside the gate she said, "Which meeting did you spy on, to learn this 'uncommon knowledge?'"

"Chiyo's. She's…not happy with Gaara."

"They have a history?"

"Likely," Sasuke said. "Seemed more of a specific grudge she held than a general fear."

"That doesn't make it easy for him," said Sakura. They were trudging up the mountain. Dried out shrubbery lined the steep path. An ocher-feathered eagle shot across the sky. "Does he need her?"

"Apparently," Sasuke said. "She's one of the elders."

"Did you know that?"

"It never came up."

"So," Sakura said, "what happened?"

"She sent me away."

"Just you?"

"Gaara as well," Sasuke said. "She didn't want to talk to anyone."

"Must have been in a bad mood."

The mountain path curved, and after passing a cluster of boulders Sakura lost sight of the village below. They traveled upward for another ten minutes before reaching a property wedged into the mountain.

A wooden fence enclosed the space around two buildings: one, a house two storeys tall and sitting farther back, the other a small hut with a wide gate and a straw roof. The fence looked broken in places and, bound to a pole near the entrance, a skinny mule with spotty fur lapped up water from a trough.

The closer Sakura went, the stronger became the smell of rot and foulness. She moved over to the mule, which did not deign her with acknowledgement, and found in the rough trough a small puddle that would soon dry up. The mule however lapped with fervor at the places where the wood was wet, and even where the wood was dry. After one such lick it made a pained noise, pulled back its tongue and then went in again, tongue now spreading blood across the inside of the trough.

"Sasuke," she said.

"I have no idea," Sasuke said. "But you should put it to sleep for now."

Sakura put her hands on the fur and applied light pressure. "Shh," she said, but again the mule did not notice her. Sakura infused him with chakra, guiding the energy through the unfamiliar pathways. A second later, as the strength left the mule, she wound her hands around its torso and gently put it to the ground. She carried it to a shadowed place beside the straw-roofed building, and Sasuke—looking rather unwilling—opened the big mouth, pulled out the tongue, and healed the wound.

"Splinters," he said, "and not just a few. What is this smell?"

"Death," said Sakura.

When she pushed open the gate next to them, the smell grew worse. Even before entering, the stench had evoked horror in her because she thought it to come from the owner of this place. Sorashi-san lived sequestered away from the village, and the façade of the house at the end of the property showed signs of wealth, as did the size of the property itself. Was it not likely that bandits had raided his home and killed him? Who would have noticed when such a recluse stopped coming to the village?

But the stench inside what Sakura now recognized as a small barn did not originate from the artist struck by tragedy, as the old man at the plaza had told her. Inside she found a body not dissimilar to the mule outside, lying, half-buried, in a stage of advanced decay. A mound of earth covered its behind, but the remains of the rotting head looked out at her from the other side.

Sasuke inspected the shovel next to the mound. "Blood on the handle. Your witness is an interesting guy."

Sakura's stomach revolted at the sight, but she did not allow herself to be weak and offered Sasuke a tight-lipped grin. "He is, isn't he?"

"But," Sasuke added, "the mound is fresher than the dead body." His hands glowed green over the mule's head, went along the visible part of the body that still remained, and even hovered above the mound. "Natural cause, as far as I can tell."

Sakura thought that if Konoha ever needed another good coroner, Sasuke presented a prime choice.

"And the blood on the shovel?"

"Human," said Sasuke.

"Let's go," she said, moving away from the grotesque sight. Outside, Sakura saw the mule sleeping in the shade of the barn and hurried on. At least it was closer to its brother now, though that in itself counted as a questionable feature.

Sakura crossed the rest of the property in quick strides until she stood before the door to the house. There she hesitated. Sorashi-san had not yet left a good impression on her, and the hope that he would know what happened to her mother had dwindled considerably in the barn. But there is no way but forward, she told herself, and entered, Sasuke close behind.

Inside she found a large room but no witness. Stacked against the wall next to the door were white canvases and buckets of paint, one of them toppled and leaking, a puddle of dried paint fanning out into the room. On the opposite side, near the stairway to the next level, sat a table and a modest hearth, with broken earthenware lying around it. The house smelled of rot, too, but here the stench came from a bowl of rotten peaches and apples, and mingled with a scent she recognized as incense, and something else, vastly sweeter. Next to the bowl with rotten fruit was a neatly cut slice of cheese and a loaf of bread, stale but edible.

"Sakura." Sasuke held up a narrow, thumb-length bamboo stem. On the table beside him lay a knife and more of those stems. "You said he's an artist?"

"I don't think this counts as art," she said, taking up one of the bamboo stems, and finding it hollow. "He made quite a few of them."

"The knife's bloody," Sasuke said.

"Some of these stems, too," said Sakura.

About to further investigate the room, Sakura made for a shelf with a copious amount of books, when from above she heard the sign of life she had been waiting for. Upstairs there was a rumbling, followed by a shout of pain and laughter.

She forgot all about the bookshelf and ran up the stairs, one hand around the handle of her knife in case she would need it. The top level was as big as the lower floor, a single room dominated on one side by a giant bed that could have five people sleeping comfortably in it. From wall to wall stretched an unfurled roll of paper, all across the floor, parts of it colored, parts inked, none of it making sense.

Sakura first thought it a seal and her instincts warned her of a trap. But when nothing happened, her attention found its way to the man. Sorashi Yura sat cross-legged on a chair, whipping forward and back, one hand balancing him against a small table on which lay a bamboo tube, one end crimson. His left nostril leaked blood on his linen shirt. He wore no pants.

"Ahh!" he cried when he spotted them, falling from the chair. Lying down just so, legs stretched away from him, he pointed at the ceiling and giggled. "It is the energy of the below," he said, "that offers above the might to fight itself. Fight, little ones, fight!" He then turned his head to them. "Al-hruz, protect me—stone people have come to visit." Yura jumped to his feet, staggered against the bed, fell into the mattress, laughed, and got up again. He stared at Sasuke, who had not once taken the hand from the grip of his sword. "Quoth the raven, Nevermore!"

Then he fell back into the bed, laughing.

"He's mad," Sasuke said.

"I still need an answer," said Sakura. "Do you know what this is?" She pointed at a small bag filled with seeds, which sat next to a bowl, a mirror, and a pestle. On the mirror lay little crushed crumbs.

Sasuke sniffed at the crumbs, took out a seed from the bag and held it up to the warm sunlight streaming into the room. "Sija-seeds," he said. "Medicine. Usually. One fourth of a grain, mixed with—"

"Quoth! Quoth! I hear you, my feet, and I blame you, my boots! Though a wise man once said, blame not on your boots the fault of your feet! Decision is a harsh task master, as always, little ones, as always."

On the end of the bamboo tube and within, Sakura found blood and remains of the seeds. "Looks like more than one fourth of a grain," she said.

"Far more," said Sasuke.

"Do you think he's reliable?"

For this question she received the appropriate expression of disbelief. She nevertheless went up to Yura and crouched before his giggling form, shimmying inside the blanket as it now was. She had a great conviction to receive her answer today, but so close to the man, her faculties gave out on her. What to ask a madman that he would understand? She asked the first that came to mind.

"Are you insane?"

"Yes," he said, giggling again. "We are all and grow less so as we grow, but some don't."

"Are you Sorashi Yura?"

"That is what Al-hruz called me."

Sakura smiled. "Who is Al-hruz?" She felt Sasuke stand behind her and knew him to become more impatient with every question.

"The one from atop the below," Yura said. "In short, it is me, Al-hruz, the Stone Cutter, God of the Stone People. Are you here to worship?"

"Yes," she said.

"Sakura—"

"I know from tales that Al-hruz is wise," Sakura said.

"He is indeed," said Yura. "Wiser than most think. Wiser even than Yura or the Stone Cutter, because Al-hruz knows when to put on socks and when to leave them off." He pointed at his feet. He wore one sock.

Sakura nodded solemnly. "And I heard legends," she said, "that to worship Al-hruz is by attaining a sliver of his wisdom and knowledge."

"It is a great gift bestowed on the faithful," said Yura. He was slowly rolling himself out of his blanket and stared at her with unbroken concentration. "Have you come to receive the blessing?"

"I have," Sakura said, devout. "I seek your knowledge, to learn of the past and to steer course into the present."

"Worthy, worthy," Yura said. "Worthy, indeed, worthy. Speak then, and Al-hruz will dispense knowledge."

And so she spoke, while Sasuke went around the room to inspect it, and told Yura in terms he might understand—or so she hoped—of what she wanted to learn. Of a caravan, a bazar he had visited as Yura, and of a tragedy that might have befallen him and her in equal measure.

"I know not of what you speak, initiate," said Yura. His face was drawn in a grotesque mask that showed his understanding and the willingness to fight for its staying in the deepest pits of consciousness.

"Please, Al-hruz, I seek—"

"I know not!" Yura jumped up. He walked in wild circles through the room, uncaring for the white paper on his floor. He stepped on the inked and colored parts, carrying his blue and green footsteps all around.

"Please," Sakura said, "anything at all. My—"

"No! No! Stone Cutter, Yura, Al-hruz!" And he stormed past Sasuke, who had watched increasingly alarmed, to the table. In a mad frenzy he crushed more seeds. Before Sakura had reached him, Yura put the bamboo pipe in his nose, snorted the seeds, utter a harsh cry of pain, eyes watery and pupils magnified. "No!" he shouted, snot around his lips.

Sakura opened her mouth again, but at that moment he lurched forward. She reacted, but Sasuke was faster. He appeared in front of her and backhanded Yura hard enough for him to fly backwards into his bed, where he stayed, unconscious.

"So much for reliable," Sasuke said.

"He knows it," said Sakura.

"He's unwilling to give it up."

"Yes," she said, staring at Yura's prone form. "Do you think with your Sharingan…"

"I'm not a Yamanaka."

"There has to be a way," she said, and then she thought that she possessed no Genjutsu to delve into the mental imagery of a person, and that Sasuke might be able to plant suggestions but would not be able to make her see, or see himself. But suggestions, that could be worked with.

"Can you make him talk about it?" she said.

"I can try." Sasuke sent a quick electrical shock through Yura, waking him up. Before the man could speak, Sasuke's Sharingan spun into existence. "Tell us what happened to you," he said.

"As time passed I was thrice born."

Sasuke remained silent for a second, then said, "Tell us how your first life ended."

Yura grimaced horribly, revealing a set of fouling teeth. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, and then came words: "Yura saw what color blood has when it falls into sand. And gold was yellow but then, then it was red." He stuttered slightly. "Yura sat in sand and thought he died and later he died really." Then his lips pressed themselves together tightly and he began shivering. But his tale, it seemed, had found its end.

And Sakura, who had listened, could not make anything of it, and endured the sinking feeling that this last lead would serve no purpose other than informing her that the mystery of her mother's death would remain unsolved. So much for that, she thought, and faced with a wall like this, she sat down, staring at the bed posts in front of her, Sasuke's voice but an echo now.

"—kura." A sharp echo though.

"Sakura."

She looked up. She lacked the strength to respond, but there was something demanding in his gaze and that made her furious at first, because he should not be as clear-voiced as this after defeat, and then curious, because she noticed that Yura got up from the bed and went over to the stretch of paper.

"What is he doing?" she asked.

"What I forced him to," Sasuke said. "If you want your answers, you better start influencing him."

"For what?"

"Stop being daft, woman," he said, annoyed, and then she saw that his eyes were still red, and that a small rivulet of blood streamed from the right down his nose. "Whatever illusion you know to make him more susceptible to commands."

She did, and then watched as, for another five minutes, Sasuke's Sharingan spun faster and faster, until he sank onto the bed with a groan, eyes fading to black. And it seemed a miracle to her, the feeling of hope suddenly blooming, that Yura knelt on the canvas, using his brushes and colors to paint. She understood at last what Sasuke had done. And the picture, she hoped, would finally tell her.

* * *

Kakashi found his charges lazing in the shadows of the South Gate and was positively surprised when, the moment he closed in on them, their heads snapped around as one. Contrary to the night before they seemed quite alert. Good. He had planned things for them, and even though they were Chūnin now, their performance yesterday had worried him just as much as his own had been embarrassing.

He raised his hand and waved. They waved back. Then they noticed that he was not coming to them, and he smiled as they rose to their feet, sluggish and tired from the heat.

"You're here, good," he said and there was a lot more to say but no words that fit, rather like yesterday.

"Sounds familiar," said Naruto. "Taking us to the Forest of Death next?"

"Danzō won't let us go that far, I'm afraid." Kakashi knew himself to be a tall man by normal standards, and had not yet adapted fully to Naruto reaching his shoulders. To see a former shrimp grow like this had something unsettling about it. Or rather, the missed time it symbolized unsettled him. "I'd be remiss not to invite you to the forest once we're back in Konoha though," he said. "I heard you had quite the adventure."

"Adventure is one way to put it," said Sakura, and there, too, Kakashi imposed the naïve expression he knew of her on the face he now saw, with eyes that still held light but so much more darkness than before. He should be happy about it, in the sense that it meant his training had worked and that she now faced the world with open eyes. The happiness, he found, remained absent.

But, he thought, looking at Sasuke, who stood with crossed arms, matured in body and surely in pride as well, they were still his team. They were, according to reliable records, a handful as well, and for two years now Kakashi's hands had been empty.

"Before we're back in Konoha we'll have made Jōnin, somehow," Naruto said. "Then you can't make us enter the forest anymore."

"He's right," Sakura said. "But don't worry, we'll still value your opinion, sensei. You've got a bedroom in our house after all."

She said it with a cheeky grin and hit the issue he had trouble with right on the head without even noticing it. Or maybe she had noticed and was, by now, good enough to veil her knowledge. Time would tell, Kakashi supposed.

"I do have a room there, yes," he said. "Thank you for that by the way."

"You're welcome," Sasuke said.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, saying, "I meant wrecking my home," and delighting in the surprised looks he received in return. They really had forgotten. Naruto in particular took his time to remember the havoc he had wrought.

"Right," he said, as they moved out of the village and alongside the palisade surrounding the camp, "your apartment. Nice place."

"I'm interested in the burned carpet," Kakashi said. "And in my kitchen table—it wouldn't do to forget the kitchen table. It was a present for my twentieth birthday after all."

In theory he should have known that Sasuke harbored no such feeling as shame. Or if he did, then just for a miniscule amount of time. "Who," he said, "gives away a kitchen table as a present?"

"That does seem an odd choice," said Sakura. "But maybe that's Jōnin stuff."

Naruto nodded thoughtfully. "You can always use the table leg as a weapon," he said. "There's nothing beating a club in a melee, and if you've the aim you can also use it as a spear of some kind. Might be good to sharpen one end beforehand if you want to do that, Kakashi-sensei."

"He's not going to take a table leg into a fight," Sasuke said.

"I'm just saying that he could use it in a pinch and if a table's near. No need to get all high and mighty."

"So," Sasuke said, "you say that if Kakashi of all people is in a pinch he'd still have the time to rip out a table leg, sharpen and then throw it?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth."

"To be fair, Naruto," Sakura said, "you put them there yourself."

"Two against one now? I can deal with that. Wait until we're sparring, Sakura. We'll see how you like taking his side then."

Sakura grinned like a wolf about to tear a sheep. "Yes, let's."

Kakashi walked beside them, silent, feeling foreign yet included, an animal of the same species but with different stripes. More time. More time was all he needed, he was sure. Things would return back to normal eventually.

When they reached the Shard Wall and the three lined up before him but did not stop their bickering, he cleared his throat. They did not hear him and he cleared his throat a second time, louder. Again they did not hear him. Kakashi flared his chakra, infusing a healthy dose of killing intent while doing so.

They snapped to attention and shifted into their stances, but were not paralyzed despite him being quite serious, and again it showed that they had learned much. But there were still things to teach and he would show them those things because that was all he could do at the moment; and for that purpose it did not matter that he felt like an outsider right now. Years ago he had sworn to make them great and defend them to his dying breath because that was his creed. Now he swore to do the same because they were they and he was their teacher, and nothing would change that.

"Now that we're here let's start," Kakashi said.

"What are we going to do?" Sakura said.

Sasuke and Naruto looked curious as well, their faces for now full of confidence and, soothingly enough, trust. A long time had passed since they last trained with him. The memory, it seemed, had blurred.

"Easy," said Kakashi. "You know this exercise, it just bears constant repeating to be worthwhile." They paled, he smiled, and then they ran. Kakashi saw them signing frantically as they sped away—a code he did not recognize—and he gave them five seconds before pulling his forehead protector aside.

* * *

They slid down the dune when the heat began to bristle over their heads and a fire dragon tore through the sand above. Working the uneven terrain of the desert had become ingrained into their fighting style over time, and now they made full use of it. At the bottom of the dune they jumped to their feet and continued to run to the next—a game that would repeat itself until they had found a good strategy, at least if Naruto had anything to say about it. A fight with Kakashi and without a plan was never a good way to end the day.

 _Triangle_ , Naruto signed, _then—_

The air was chock-full of whistling and all three pulled their heads in, throwing a furtive glance back as they weaved through the projectiles, deflecting when evading proved impossible. And even without his fancy eyes, Sasuke was better at making some space than Sakura and Naruto combined. Whenever a shuriken approached and there was no chance to avoid it Sasuke angled his sword in a way that sent the shuriken into another that would, if left unattended, soon bother him. And then another, and yet another.

Kakashi had reached the top of the dune and, leaping down in a sharp slant, closed in on them like a bird of prey. His hands blurred as he dispensed one shuriken at a time and changed between multiplying them and throwing new ones.

 _—explosion, and,_ Sakura signed but stopped abruptly.

Her head snapped to the right and Naruto, following her line of sight, watched a fireball rush at them, a second Kakashi behind it. Naruto pushed forward, bumping Sakura away. He called up the chakra inside him and spat a stream of water at the incoming flames, forcing his chakra into widening the stream as much as possible.

After years in the desert, the pressure of the water was enough to counter the fire. It still felt weak, but he thought that should he ever be close to a source again, his enemies would not be happy. Danger avoided, Naruto drew level with his team.

A third Kakashi appeared to their left. And when the sand began to creak under the force of lightning arcs jumping from grain to grain, Naruto recognized that outrunning Kakashi was not going to work. Back in Konoha he had tried to teach them survival on the run—now he wanted to see what they had learned when it came to fighting. All this dodging would do nothing for them.

They jumped over the crackling bed of lightning on the ground. One arc lashed out but Naruto ignored the burn shooting up his leg.

 _Attack_ , he signed, _and improvise_.

And it was just as well since he would never be able to bring up enough water to use for their triangle technique. Naruto turned and rushed at the Kakashi behind them, Sasuke following on his heels. He heard Sakura grumble something but knew that she would deal with the two clones coming from the sides.

Being the faster of the two, Sasuke overtook Naruto on his way to Kakashi and was the first to lay into their teacher—or at least attempt to lay into him. Kakashi weaved between the attacks, and while Sasuke had become a lot faster and more agile over the years, that alone did not suffice to put much pressure on Kakashi.

Naruto joined in with spinning kick under which Sasuke ducked. Kakashi lifted his knee to block Sasuke's punch, grabbing Naruto's leg at the same time. Naruto twisted mid-air and formed two seals before spitting out a barrage of small, compact water bullets.

Kakashi leaned back, evaded the first and pulled Naruto with him to make sure the others veered off course as well. Kakashi's concentration fully on Naruto and the bullets though, Sasuke used the distraction to swipe at his legs.

Kakashi lost his balance for a split-second, and Sasuke tried to capitalize on it, sallying forward. But Kakashi, still gripping Naruto's leg, swung the body around as he let himself fall. Almost to the ground he let go of his student and pushed himself into an upright handstand from which he flipped into a normal stance.

Naruto copied the motion and landed in a crouch beside Sasuke. Some yards behind them they heard explosions and a grunt. The earth rumbled. Then the ground stopped trembling and, as one, Sasuke and Naruto shot forward to meet their teacher head-on in another quick exchange. This time things would be different—they felt Sakura behind them, and her chakra extending past them toward Kakashi as it layered Genjutsu around him.

Now with their third teammate they went in, disregarding the dangerous smirk showing beneath their teacher's mask. And Naruto felt as if inside him a wall broke down, a single piece shifted and the puzzle took shape. This was how it was supposed to be. The feeling of stagnation, of treading the same space—it all took a backseat now to the exhilaration of matching himself against his teacher again, of having his teammates beside him, of being Team Seven, complete at last.

* * *

Evening, after the academy left out, Naruto excused himself for the remainder of the day. His destination made him uncomfortable and so he walked slowly through the streets. But today, he knew, he had to talk with Gaara. In the weeks since Kakashi's appearance they met a few times, but the topic that Naruto now wanted to discuss had not entered into their chats before—with good reason.

Some citizens lifted their heads from their work as he passed. Their expressions were far from unified. The baker, whose son had yet to learn how to walk on water, smiled, and Naruto returned the silent greeting. A corner farther along the street, the smith, towering sweat-covered above his anvil, let the hammer descend harder as Naruto went by.

He educated their children, the baker would say. A foolish statement in the eyes of the smith, who countered that not education but manipulation underlie Naruto's motives. As so often was the case, both held in their hands one half of the same truth. Naruto did not care to grow his students into obedient fodder for Konoha's war. But in the pursuit of his true goal, that is while educating them on how to stay alive, acknowledgment of his village's strength played a necessary part. Impressing on the children that acting hostile toward Konoha decreased their chance of survival seemed a wise precaution. Not just for their safety, but also for his own peace of mind.

He often wondered whether the word teacher fit him, though, or any shinobi. He taught, and that made him a teacher. But should there not be a condition attached to that term? That is, should not a reason stand behind knowledge, one that lent itself to life? When in his mind he walked to the end the road of the shinobi, all he found was more ways to end life than one could find sand in the desert. Could a teacher call himself as such, when all he did was prepare a child to keep the cycle going like the wheel of a mill, where not water but blood made sure the grain was ground?

At such thoughts he always felt like an impostor who just stole the title. Then he remembered Iruka, Kakashi, and Jiraiya, and felt to them a connection that made him doubt his reasoning. They all did what he criticized in his mind, yet all three he would call teacher without giving it any thought. Maybe, though, they struggled with the same problem. Or maybe he over thought the issue, something that seemed unlike himself, even to him.

It proved a good distraction though, which found its end as he arrived at the Kazekage's residence. A chest-high wall ringed the property, and Naruto went through a garden, a tree shading a bench, up to a house that lacked height but made up for it through sprawling architecture. The complex water system, he thought while passing a bed of yellow flowers, was the real wonder of Suna.

He walked up to the door and knocked without hesitation. The situation would be uncomfortable but he had thought long on this, and had he had any doubts he would not have come in the first place.

Gaara joined him in the garden soon after. He still wore the red coat he had worn on his arrival.

"I did not expect you for another three days," Gaara said. "I thought your schedule was rather…inflexible."

"You never know when free time comes along. Might as well pay you a visit."

Gaara in his known taciturnity led Naruto into the house without speaking. The furniture of the residence seemed simple, but what rested on it—crystal decanters, gilded cups, trophies—not so much. The floor was laid out with carpets detailing flowers in various stages of bloom.

"Hard at work?" Naruto said, nodding at a table where between maps, scrolls, candles and brushes lay several open books.

"It is…agreeable." Gaara seated himself and after pushing the books and scrolls aside bid Naruto to follow suit. "You know what Konoha wishes from me."

"Is that what you want, too?" Naruto waved off before Gaara could respond. "No need to answer that one, sorry. So," he said, leaning over to peek at the books, "geography, math, a few ledgers—anything interesting?"

Gaara did not reply, and when Naruto looked up he found the redhead studying him with scrutiny. Having learned staring from the best of them, and being used to this behavior, Naruto riposted. Gaara would answer in his own time.

Over the weeks they had met regularly to eat—Sakura joining them at times—and discussed topics ranging from Gaara's life as a political prisoner to their duties in Suna (and what skill it took to make bread with a cheese crust like the baker made whose son Naruto taught). Often they also walked the village, and it surprised Naruto not at all with what vehemence the villagers stared at Gaara.

'I am used to it,' were Gaara's words, spoken in his slow and exacting manner, and Naruto had understood. Next day he asked his students what they thought of the redhead. They talked much, and Naruto refuted most of it. Then he brought Gaara into the classroom and pandemonium broke out.

Here he was, the devil of their nightmares, the daemon their parents had told them about. Here, among them, standing on the doorsill, unmoving as a statue while they observed his every move. Just that he did not spill their blood, never ate their pets, and did not think of frightening them till all of them died of heart attacks. His voice sounded monotone and droning during his five minute speech about fighting in the desert, but that seemed, that day, his only fault.

From time to time Naruto liked to stupefy his students. What then did it say that no matter which skill Naruto showed them, their befuddlement had never reached higher than when they noticed Gaara would not harm them. A slow start, but change had to begin somewhere.

The staring between Naruto and Gaara reached its climax when the gong in the nearby shrine of Odaya rang four times, signaling that the bi-monthly ritual of worship neared its end. After having prayed for an hour, the priests would now lead the people in a slow, circular dance to balance the aspects of body and soul. In earlier times—Temari had told Naruto, laughing at his dumbfounded expression—the dance had been no dance but an orgy, and the worship of Odaya as much a plea for tranquility as a ritual of fertility.

"You wish to speak about something, Naruto."

"I do," Naruto said, returning from his thoughts. As he wondered how to articulate the reason for his presence, he floundered. Then he decided on the kind of directness that had served him, for good or ill, since he could speak. "I met Temari."

Gaara's hand twitched—the first uncontrolled gesture. "How?"

"I told you we've been split up," Naruto said. "Temari led the ambush. She—well, you could say she hauled my ass to their camp."

"Has she…"

"No," said Naruto. "She didn't lay a hand on me." The memories of those months remained vivid in his mind, and talking of it now he imagined he could still feel the heat of the coals on his back as Ren lit up the brazier behind him.

"Naruto, I—"

"You had nothing to do with that, Gaara. I told you because she's your sister, not to get an apology." Unable to sit still any longer, Naruto began walking through the room. "Family's important. At least I think it is if you have one. Anyway," he said, "you've got to treasure things like that. So, she's alive and kicking."

Naruto looked back from the ceiling to his host. Gaara's attention was fixed on a photo hanging at the wall across them. Temari and Kankuro stood side by side, small in front of the large body of their father.

"I did not think any of them survived the invasion," said Gaara. Tearing his eyes away from the photo, he turned to Naruto. "I will have to fight her," he said, but the tone of his voice lacked in conviction. "If she is a threat to Suna's new—"

"You're giving up too fast, Gaara," Naruto said. "And I'm not finished yet. There's quite a bit more to the tale than her bringing me in, believe me."

Naruto walked up to Gaara and took a closer look at the picture himself. "Your brother really wore his makeup since he was five. I thought she was talking out of her ass to be funny. Sibling rivalry and all that."

"She talked with you?"

"Oh yes, she did. She also saved me after learning that I'm a Jinchūriki. So, she tried, I'd say. That's more than most people ever do. And," he said, now walking around the room again, "in the end, when the storm hit, she came back for me."

"Acceptance," Gaara said.

"I knew you'd get it."

"You don't seek revenge?"

Naruto halted. "Do I look like that to you?"

"It is a valid question," Gaara said.

Unfortunately that was no lie, Naruto thought. A small part of him would always wish to avenge himself.

"I don't seek it, no. She's safe from my…let's call it furious vengeance." But as things stood, he still wished he had never met her. No amount of joking could cover up that simple truth. "In any case," Naruto continued, "I told you because I think you should know that she's well."

"Do you know anything about Kankuro?"

Naruto shook his head. "We didn't speak about war-related matters. She told me things he did when he was younger, nothing from the present though." He paused. "She has quite the temper"— _which I roused perfectly every time_ —"and I didn't want to provoke her too much."

Gaara though had probably never witnessed Temari's temper, since having such a thing would have been rather deadly in his presence.

They kept quiet for a while. Naruto still had things to say, to ask, but something held him back. He wanted to know how Gaara dealt with his Bijū, even though their seals differed, but talking about that issue meant thinking too much of his own failure.

The Yondaime had made him the warden and, reasonable decision or not, that was his duty now. Gaining the acceptance of the shinobi around him—from Suna to Konoha—had taken him the better part of three years. He would not jeopardize that by admitting, to anyone but his team, that he had problems with this task.

* * *

 _You should have known better_ , Sakura thought as the knife slipped out of her grip and Kakashi drove his knuckles into her face. _You should have known a damn sight better. But you didn't. And now Kakashi-sensei is ripping you to shreds for it._

The next fist came flying and Sakura stepped to the side, trying to get out of range of the plated gloves covering her sensei's fists. They hurt far more than she remembered. She jumped back, barely avoiding being swept off her feet. Maybe Kakashi-sensei had actually been lenient with them back then? _No way_ , she then thought. _Sensei's always been like this. I just…forgot. Silly Sakura, you should have known better._

Berating herself had to come later. Kakashi smelled her blood and she did not want to offer up more of it than she already had. If one looked closely, she was sure, there would be a blood trail from here up to the Shard Wall a mile away. That was just the way Kakashi treated her this lovely morning. Also the last. And the one that had come before the last.

In a practiced motion she reached for a new knife and flung it at Kakashi as he closed in on her again. _I will shear that fucking silver hair right off your head_. But Kakashi dodged, the knife missed, and no hair was shorn that day as she hurriedly tried to defend against the onslaught, bending in ways previously thought impossible, blood pounding in her ears, vision narrowing to a tunnel, knife after knife landing in the sand as sparks flew and her sensei just would not let up.

Ninjutsu had been useless, Genjutsu a waste of time, Taijutsu even worse. That beside the fighting her mind was still occupied with what Sorashi Yura had painted made matters progressively worse, as she thought of it in the most inappropriate moments: small, children-like figures clothed in golden robes; a brown-haired man and what looked like dozens of fuma shuriken around him; a puppet the size of an adult next to a red-haired giant; all of them surrounded by black masked teenagers; and everywhere was blood. What to make of it? The difference in size of each figure only added to the confusion.

Sakura's punch ran into nothing. _What, why? He was there. He was fucking there!_ A mistake—this was a horrible mistake. If Kakashi was not there now, she had overextended. Her eyes widened. Kakashi was coming for her. _No, no, no_. For a second the tunnel vision receded and the whole field shimmered into clarity.

Then Kakashi had his fist in her hair and yanked her back with force. She grunted in pain and lashed out. She had to get away, had to—Suddenly Kakashi let go of her hair and she, the full force of her desperation driving her on, rushed away from him, head first into a wall.

 _What—_

With a tight grip around her ankles she was pulled into the sand, which hardened around her body even before she had been fully immersed in it.

Kakashi settled in a relaxed crouch before her head and smiled that slightly arrogant smile of his that she had wanted to wipe off his face for days now. A fine sheen covered his brow, but it looked nothing like she had envisioned after a fight where she brought everything to bear against him.

 _A monster_ , Sakura thought. _That's what you are, Kakashi-sensei. A veritable, pain-inducing, unfeeling, coldhearted, human-hating_ —

"I must say that I thought you would have it by now," Kakashi said. "Have Naruto and Sasuke overtaken you in the brain department as well now?"

 _As well? I will give you as well!_

"You're an asshole."

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. "And you've quite the mouth on you. That's new. But maybe that's one area where you're actually ahead of your teammates now. Things sure have changed."

It was so like Kakashi to play on her insecurities like this. He had done it in the Forest of Death as well and it had been surprisingly efficient. _I still hate it_ , she thought. _I hate it, I hate it, I hate it._ But she also recognized that it helped, which made her far more furious than it should. _One day you'll see, Kakashi-sensei_ , she said to herself. _I'll kick your ass and then I'll kick Naruto's ass and also Sasuke's ass. And I will laugh at all of you and you will eat your words like a good little boy, sensei_.

"Good work, Sakura," Kakashi said, "with that scowl you can assassinate someone. That's a weapon. Now make it work."

Sakura took a deep breath and relaxed her facial muscles. No need to give him more ammunition. "Can you get me out of here before we continue with this enlightening conversation? It's hot and…degrading. You wouldn't want me to tell the women in Konoha—Tsunade-sama for example—that you like to degrade young ladies, would you?"

"Looking like that I see no lady, Sakura. Besides, I thought Tanyu cured you of your wish to become a princess." _He's got a point there_ , Sakura thought morosely.

Kakashi continued, "And blackmailing me a second after asking for a favor? Those aren't the manners of a lady. But if you believe making your case with Tsunade-sama will help, I urge you to do so."

Somehow, the way he talked of Tsunade-sama failed to increase her confidence. The man knew something she did not.

"Seriously, Kakashi-sensei, the ' _it's hot_ ' point still stands. I can't think like this."

 _I can, but I don't want to._

Kakashi changed from his crouch into a cross-legged position. "You know, beside what I actually want to teach you, this is a valuable lesson. Shinobi must be able to think under duress. Learn it now and it will serve you well later on."

"Any reason why I am the only one receiving this valuable lesson?"

Kakashi shrugged. "You've had time on your hands. Naruto's teaching the kids and Sasuke's healing people. Actually, who would have thought that possible? I have to admit, seeing him work tirelessly for the good of others warms my heart."

"Sasuke's definitely the most altruistic of us three," she said.

"It does not become you to mock your teammates, Sakura," said Kakashi. "But enough chit-chat. If you want to leave that hole, you should think about what I tried to teach you these past weeks. I made it so obvious today it hurts. Don't disappoint me now."

 _Yeah, right_ , Sakura thought, _no pressure at all. And what a way to make me feel bad. I'll get you one day and it won't be pretty._

But sooner or later she had to step away from the black swirling vortex that was her vengeful thoughts lest she become an Uchiha in all but name. Kakashi once more proved to be a bastard but he was right in that he never did anything without a plan. There had been something to this beat down that she was supposed to discover.

Sakura went through the fights she had with him so far. What did he want her to see? She attacked—he was not there. Then she got grabbed or punched or kicked in some form. The wall this day had been new, but Kakashi used other Jutsu before. Little indentions in the ground to make her stumble. Obstacles that were not where they were supposed to—

Her thoughts ground to halt.

"You're combining," she said and though it was mumbled Kakashi seemed to understand her perfectly. He nodded along with her murmurs, an easy eye-smile on his face. "You used Genjutsu to set up the punch, and the punch to set up the wall."

"And yesterday?" Kakashi asked.

"Little holes in the ground all over. Hidden. You…veiled them?"

"I did."

Sakura said, "But I combine Taijutsu and Genjutsu already. I know that's possible. I do it. I did it in the forest, and—"

"No need to get defensive about it, Sakura. You do it, but how often? In all aspects of your fighting? Consciously?" He shook his head as she tried to say something. "As it is, you treat all three branches of the shinobi arts as separate units. Sure, from time to time you combine them in some fashion, but the transition is rocky and unpracticed. It isn't 'either Genjutsu or Ninjutsu' but 'Genjutsu and Ninjutsu.'"

"What about chakra? I'm nowhere near Naruto's or, hell, even Sasuke's reserves. If I start to constantly combine I'll burn through it in seconds."

"Who ever said you had to be on the same level as them chakra-wise?" Kakashi looked her squarely in the eyes. "You are you, Sakura. You have your own way of fighting, and if drawing level with their reserves is all there is to your aspirations as a kunoichi then you should've left the corps a long time ago, because that will never happen."

That stung. And even after three years she still felt insecurity wrapped around her—the constant question of 'What if I'm not good enough?' that had never left even if the voice asking it grew quieter.

"They will become monstrous as they grow into their powers," Kakashi said. "And you will set yourself up for endless disappointment if you try to walk the exact same path."

She hung her head but with two fingers Kakashi pushed it up until they were looking at each other again.

"Keep your head up," he told her. "What I'm saying isn't meant to discourage you."

 _Well, you're doing a bang-up job of it_ , she thought.

"You will become monstrous in your own way," said Kakashi. "But that's just it. _Your own way_ , Sakura. Do you get what I'm telling you? Be more intelligent, more cunning, more wise. Use what you have in the most efficient way and don't even care about how much chakra your teammates can fling around. That's not you. And besides, it isn't me either. You're wrong if you think my reserves are even close to Naruto's. No," he said, "that's them. Your nature is far more subtle. Make your fighting the same: small illusions, small techniques, small movements. All to maneuver people into the positions you want them in.

"And when people least expect it, when they think all you do is small-time illusions, you hit them with a shot that kills them. As always, it's a matter of surprising the enemy."

Reciting a proverb from memory Sakura said, "A surprised shinobi is a dead shinobi."

"Exactly. Let them underestimate you, then make them regret it. Besides, large attacks are so easy to see it's laughable. The small ones are easily overlooked or discarded. Most often they're the deadly ones."

When Kakashi loosened the sand, she heaved herself out of the hole.

"Thanks," she murmured.

"My pleasure. Now that I almost had to break your nose on it, we can move onto how to make it a reality."

That made her look up. "Today?" she asked, still feeling her aching bones.

"When Naruto and Sasuke are back. Get something to eat, rest up. We'll see each other in the afternoon."

Then he left Sakura alone in the valley of sand before Suna. And she sat for a long while on the dune, ignoring the blistering heat on her neck. Subtle but deadly. She had liked flashy. Flashy had made her feel like she was on par with her teammates in all aspects even if she could not hold out as long as them. But maybe flashy was not the right choice and maybe, just maybe, Kakashi was right and she was not the type for it. Now that she thought about it, flashy was, in a sense, the symbol of her insecurity.

Sakura let herself fall back into the sand, shading her face.

This morning had held far too many revelations to be comfortable and she doubted she would get much sleep tonight.

* * *

With the repairs complete, Suna's hospital had changed from being a hastily put up construction of wood to a sickle-shaped building three storeys high, with a monstrous yard where, in the sunlight, the glass panes of hothouses were shimmering.

Sasuke leaned against the window sill in a medical room on the second floor and observed the herb experts below carry resources to and fro between the hothouses. Those were recent additions—though not a novelty in itself. In a barren country like this, artificial ways to create and care for healing herbs were a common sight.

Turning away from the window he watched the kunoichi at the other side of the room renew the bandages of a civilian who seemed transfixed with her. Whenever she said something, the patient first blushed, then murmured something before fixing his eyes on her dark-blue hair, loosely tied in a ponytail. After the Hyūga heiress applied the paste and changed the bandages both exchanged bows—one formal, the other rather awkward to watch—and the young man left, a spring to his step.

How anyone could be this gentle with patients was a mystery. They all were the same—irritating when you did not reply to their inane questions and downright rude when, after patching them up, you told them to stop being morons and take care of themselves. In a rare moment of self-reflection, leaning on that window sill, Sasuke thought that this was not a job he would like to do in the future. He had nothing but contempt for these people.

The job at the hospital served a purpose though, so he would endure it until the time had come to leave and never look back. Soon he would be able to use his eyes to their full capacity again.

Hinata cleared her throat behind him.

"—the last one, Sasuke-san," she was saying as he turned to her. "With Hono-san gone, we should have cleared everyone scheduled for today. He had lost his bandages…again."

"Of course he did," said Sasuke. "I will take care of him next time."

The Hyūga did not look convinced. Pity. "I believe we must treat all patients equally well. Even if they seem overly…clumsy."

 _He throws those bandages away every damn time,_ Sasuke thought. _That's not clumsy, that's willful. I will visit him if he does it again._

"—the patrol of the hothouses will come in two hours at the earliest," Hinata said and Sasuke shut the thoughts of punting Hono into a wall away, opting to listen instead. "We still have more than enough time if you still want…"

"I do."

 _I will hold off on killing Hono_ , he thought, sitting down with Hinata at a table. _I will hold off, but only if he does not provoke me. Hinata is necessary right now. And Naruto will not be amused either if I displease her. Somehow Hinata has left an impression on him. On Sakura as well, it seems. They both like her_. _I suppose she is likeable enough_. _Doesn't hurt that she's easy on the eyes._

"The same procedure as usual?" Hinata asked.

"Hn."

Her eyes seemed to grow in their sockets; thick veins curled around them, pulsating and exuding a faint trace of chakra.

 _She can do it without hand seals now_ , he thought. _Neji must be really happy_. Sasuke's lips quirked as he activated his own Dojutsu, taking care to coat everything in healing chakra at the same time. For a few minutes he held his Sharingan active and Hinata observed it through narrowed eyes that still did nothing to hide their almost inhuman size.

Then her Byakugan faded away and he let his Sharingan follow suit. Hinata leaned back in the chair, brows furrowed as she contemplated the rotating ceiling fan above. Then she looked back to him and said, "You're still oversaturating it, Sasuke-san."

"How much?"

"About half over what you actually need. Can you lower it?"

Sasuke was silent, mulling it over. He could, technically. But whenever he used his heritage there was that stinging sensation and the burning that seemed to melt his eyes, and when then the soothing chakra came to carry the pain away, bringing the world to full clarity, he was always too preoccupied with it to care about regulating the amount he used.

He said, "Do you think that would help?"

Hinata hummed. "I cannot say without seeing it, but I think it would help, yes. It is a possibility that the imbalance you create is making the problems you have."

That made sense even though he did not like it to make sense as it meant he would have to take even more care when using his eyes. If only it was a definite guarantee that he would be able to use his eyes fine afterward. But it was not. Sasuke found it a shame that life so rarely handed out definitive guarantees.

"Will you try it again?" she asked.

He looked at her, saw an earnest desire to help, and nodded. _I will try again_ , he thought. _And I'll have to get this woman something in return if this works. But what would be a good present?_

* * *

When four months after Kakashi joined them Danzo summoned Team Seven and many others, Naruto had a feeling of undigested dough settle in the pit of his stomach. Not much good had ever come out of being called to the command tent. Certainly that would not change anytime soon.

In a row of three, Kakashi walking behind them, Team Seven went through the streets. They passed by vendors and rebuilt homes, a gaggle of children waving at Naruto, then a group of Suna Genin, freshly graduated a week ago, nodded at him. For the first time in years Suna's insignia was carried without the fear of retribution.

At the end of the main street running straight from the balloon-shaped administration buildings in the middle of Suna up to the southern Gates, they met Gaara, who fell in step beside them.

"Mornin', Gaara," said Naruto. "You've a summon too?"

"I have."

"Do you know what he wants from us?" said Sakura.

"It is better to hear it from him," Gaara said. "He went through great troubles keeping his purpose secret."

Like every shinobi ever since the dawn of time.

Naruto glanced at Kakashi walking behind them. Usually there had been a smile on his face, ever so small, but today it failed to show up. The surface of his mask told of nothing but a straight line.

Before long they arrived at the command tent and entered, joining a group of familiar faces around the table bearing the map. Supervisors, the lot of them, and since their adventure to the rebels and Sukoru respectively, Team Seven had been called like that themselves. Naruto panned his gaze around the room: a group of thirty in various stages of aging. He recognized Shikari, the muscle woman that had hounded Sakura, Sasuke's brothel-going supervisor, and then came a few white-haired ones he did not know, but who bowed to Kakashi. Those he had brought from Konoha then.

Danzō stood silent, observing. When Team Seven and Gaara took their places he thumped his cane loud enough for everyone to pay attention. Not a man of many words, Danzō waited a second longer, then said, "In two days Konoha's offensive begins."

The volume around Team Seven grew and Naruto found on his teammates a similar expression of resignation as he himself must have carried. He knew the day would come eventually, but he felt not half as excited as so many others around him. Beside him, Gaara looked forlorn at the map.

Naruto squashed the self-pity welling up inside him. His problem was nothing to Gaara's, who soon would take to the field against his siblings. He was to unify the new shinobi of the Sand under his banner, proving that he and no other should become the Kazekage. Unfortunately that also meant going against one half of his own country.

"We will take Shishi together," Danzō told the room, tracing a line on the map with his cane, "and from there split into two forces. One under Hatake Kakashi moving west, the other under Gaara-dono and me, consolidating Shishi before moving on to Bōeki Toshi."

"A pincer toward Hajim?" Sasuke's brothel chief asked, looking at the map. "Is that not too dangerous with the rotating rebel camps? If we split our forces it'll be easier for them to whittle us down. We've become better at fighting in this terrain, but they still have the edge."

"They will keep it, no matter how long you stay here and train," Gaara said. All attention swiveled to him. He had crossed his arms in front of his chest and was staring at the map. "A few years are not enough to overcome this disadvantage."

"Gaara-dono is right," Kakashi said. "They've been born in the desert and lived here all their life. That's not something we can or should compete with." He turned to the head of the table. "I assume you have a plan?"

Danzō nodded and thumped his cane again. On the map, colored pins shimmered into existence. "These," Danzō said, "are the locations for nearly every rebel camp our scouts"—he glanced at Team Seven—"have found. Both forces will make it their mission to eradicate them on their way to the cities."

"I never knew we scouted that far," said Shikari, inspecting a red-colored pin that stuck in a place south of Sukoru.

Danzō ignored her and looked at Iho, who stood next to him. Soon the other people in the room caught on to that and they too began to stare the youngest surviving son of the Wind Daimyo.

Iho seemed unsure of what to do at first, but when Danzō's eye did not leave him and a shinobi beside him cleared his throat, he suddenly jumped into action as if awakening from a dream. He straightened up and gripped the edge of the table with both hands. _To keep himself from shaking_ , Naruto thought, noticing the twitching of Iho's fingers. And he knew others had noticed too because he saw their drawn eyebrows and their twitching lips and the condescension in the eyes of many of them.

The whole camp knew or at least assumed what the Daimyo's son meant to their efforts, and seeing the young man this weak and still having to rely on him was something that did not sit well with them.

Sasuke looked at Iho much the same; as if he was a useless apple core soon to be discarded. Naruto wished he had some apples now. They would surely make this situation much better—much happier were he to distribute them among all these angry fellows.

He understood why Sasuke and the others were bitter but he did not care for their open show of contempt, even though it was debatable whether Iho even noticed. Still, if this man with the hollow-cheeked face and the smooth skin of a woman, who looked to be of a very sensitive nature at that, was to become Suna's next Daimyo, an enabler of control of sorts, someone who would work in a close union not just with Gaara but with them too, antagonizing him did not seem a good idea.

From what he heard, two treaties had already been broken by Suna and Wind Country. Making Iho an enemy might lead to a third time, and Naruto was unsure if this desert country could survive another onslaught.

"I—I will advocate for the people of Konoha once we take the cities," Iho was saying and the shinobi around him nodded, in all appearance truthful now. Not that they felt that way. That would never happen if Iho stayed as he was. "Once they see that I am still alive, they will recognize that my broth—that Sawada is not the rightful ruler. It begins in Shishi." Iho stepped back from the table, letting his hands vanish inside the folds of his robes. They were still twitching through the fabric and everyone saw.

Danzō nodded. "Thank you…Iho-dono. It is of utmost importance that your endeavor to win over the populace is successful. Konoha trusts in your ability to convince the people of your rightful rule and will support you in your ascension to the throne to the best of her abilities."

"I…Thank you, Danzō-dono. I will make sure that all happens as planned."

Turning to the room at large, Danzō addressed all of them: "You will receive more specific orders tomorrow. Make sure your people are ready. Hatake-san, Gaara-dono, stay here. We have much to discuss."

The cane thumped again and, throwing a glance at Kakashi, Naruto was soon reassured by the man that he could go on with his team, they would meet later that day and he would keep them in the loop.

Before long they returned to their clay hut and, sitting on the roof eating bread with Shijak sauce and sweet rice, they were staring at the setting sun, taking their time to imprint the image into their minds.

* * *

 **AN:** That's it for today, folks. Hope you enjoyed it. Before I say goodbye until next week, however, I thought it prudent to briefly talk about an issue that has cropped up repeatedly now in the comments. I also apologize in advance for the length of the incoming speech (normally I try to limit my ANs to a few words), but the topic is a broad one and deserves to be discussed. I hope you will not feel too angry about this self-indulgence.

To start with, I understand that it might seem strange to some that the canon counterparts of Team Seven seem stronger in comparison, and to a degree that is true, though I maintain that they're not really comparable since they underwent an entirely different development and I'm not at all enamored with the way power levels turned out in the original story. In Blood Wings they had a severe head start with Kakashi, but it was a short stretch in comparison, and most of their power right now comes from their own experience and training. Had each of them had a Sannin as a teacher in this story, they would have turned out differently, of course, but that is not what I envisioned from the outset.

Beside a few nuggets from different teachers and a mindset that has been cultivated in the crucible of Kakashi's training and the following war, their whole achievements should feel like theirs precisely because they did most of it themselves, hence "Team Seven's Ascension." That includes setbacks, quite a lot of them, but also victories. Of course they will now and then receive some help, but the main thrust always has to come from them, which makes balancing their power levels all the more precarious. To me, Itachi is not really comparable either by the way. His experience is entirely different from Team Seven's, and he started his career years ahead of them. The same goes for Kakashi and most other geniuses of the previous generations.

I wanted to say something about Sakura too, though I believe this recent chapter articulates my thoughts on the matter rather well. Still, why not. Sakura has at her disposal an array of Genjutsu (which she did not have in canon), can brawl well enough to win against Kiba in a purely close combat oriented fight (who is specializing purely in Taijutsu himself), still has impeccable chakra control, and also utilizes earth techniques to supplement all this.

Super strength would be a perfect fit, sure, but the situation is vastly different than in canon. War has been going on for close to three years now and the time simply is not as peaceful as the two and half years in canon have been. How likely is it, then, that Sakura seeks to apprentice herself to the administrative head who has to juggle the village in a time of war, and that for a span of six months only, and also after a row of harrowing events that practically demanded a period of rest and respite? I definitely understand the appeal of her having that particular skill, but it wasn't quite right for this story, and I do believe that I made her quite strong in, to echo Kakashi, "Her own way."

Anyway, to bring this overly long soliloquy to a close, I promise that there are some glorious moments ahead, and I firmly believe that even the most bloodthirsty among you, dear readers, will find their appetite thoroughly sated after this story is over. As it stands, I'm in your debt for your continuous support, and I hope to fulfill the expectations that you have in this story.

Eilyfe


	15. Scattered I

**AN:** Everything belongs to Kishimoto

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Scattered I**

* * *

" _The two most powerful warriors are patience and time."_

" _Unfortunately we have neither."_

* * *

Proud and tall stood the walls of Shishi, and Naruto did not like them this way. _This is wrong_ , he thought. _Shinobi shouldn't be sieging cities. And they're not supposed to defend them either. I bet they're hating this just as much over there._

"I don't like this," Naruto told Sasuke. "We're behaving like a civilian army. Next Danzō's going to order a frontal attack, and we've to storm that bastard of a city. I feel like I'm being played."

 _Shinobi don't siege cities_. The words kept repeating in his mind like a mantra.

"Danzō must feel the same," Sasuke said. "He doesn't like this any more than you do."

Naruto believed that easily. The rebels hid behind their walls, forcing Danzō to chase them out in a way reserved for the Daimyo's army, not shinobi. Would the same happen at every other city on the way? The thought, this sense of inertia, was maddening. And if he knew it, then the rebels did too.

"They're stalling," said Naruto, feeling the hot sand slip between his sandals and his feet.

"For what?"

"No clue."

"You think Danzō will send us in?" said Sasuke.

"I don't want to run against that wall," Naruto said.

Straining his eyes, Naruto noticed people on the battlements. Shinobi, like him, that possessed abilities to rain down death on whoever scaled that wall. If only they were normal soldiers.

"He won't send us in like this," Sasuke said. "If you hate a frontal attack, he hates it even more."

"Two shinobi armies staring at each other is crazy," Naruto said. "At least Orochimaru had the courtesy to surprise us."

"Incredibly courteous, yes."

Sakura joined them, hair cut to shoulder-length. Earlier she had gone to visit Ino. "I'm back."

Naruto and Sasuke nodded before resuming their staring contest with the wall.

"You're overthinking this," Sakura said, "both of you. Danzō won't send us in."

Their lips twitched.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," Sasuke said.

Naruto inspected her hair. "Looking good."

Sakura smiled. "Thank you. I've also gotten our instructions." She held up a thin roll of paper bound together with waxed twine. "We're to set up camp with the others around there," she said, pointing at a formation of rocks one dune away. They rose from the desert, reddish and jagged like rusty kunai.

"That's all?" said Naruto.

"That's all," Sakura said. "Danzō's in a bad mood."

 _I'd be too if I were him_ , Naruto thought. _But there's nothing to do save waiting if that's what he said. And Sakura looks pretty with that hair. It just shouldn't be any shorter. I don't like it too short._

Naruto turned his back to the walls of Shishi and surveyed the stretch of land where they would camp. People were already setting up the miniature city of tents. "What about the others? They're with us?"

"Aside from Hinata, yes," Sakura said. "Two tents from ours. Hinata's somewhere in the middle."

Sasuke snorted. "Hyūga politics." But his words lacked heat, and Naruto grinned knowingly at Sakura.

"Did you expect any less from them?" Sakura said. "She's the heiress."

"Middle's where Danzō and the big shots are staying," said Naruto. "I don't envy her."

Sakura nodded. "I don't think she wants to stay there. She looked crestfallen when she learned of it."

"I can believe that." Naruto began to make his way down the dune. Someone was already cooking, and the smell of stew carried over. "Have you seen the advisor with the red shoes?"

"The woman with the terrible wart on the nose," Sakura said.

"That's the one, yes," said Naruto. "A scowl from here to Konoha. Gaara told me she doesn't like him. Seriously, who'd want to stay near those folks?"

"He killed dozens as a kid," Sasuke said. They passed a group of Genin struggling with their tent, then he continued unimpressed by Sakura's and Naruto's glare. "It'll stick with him whether you like it or not."

Sasuke had the right of it, though Naruto wished it were not so. In many ways Gaara represented what could have happened to him. And it stung to know that redemption seemed out of grasp for a person with whom he shared his burden. But time, as it had done for Naruto already, would eventually work its wonders for Gaara as well. With enough work, people acknowledged that what you had become differed from their earlier fearful imagination.

Hopes like this, he knew, were the flotsam to which a Jinchūriki clung in order not to drown.

* * *

In the evening of the fifth day before Shishi, Sakura sharpened her knives on the whetstone in front of her. She looked up when the flap to the tent was pushed aside. Kakashi stood in the opening, surveying the inside.

"Naruto and Sasuke?"

"Getting new rations," Sakura said. "Kiba ate a third of what we had. Of course he's entirely unapologetic." She tilted her head and inspected the knife, observing Kakashi across the edge. "

"You should take better care of these things," Kakashi said. "You never know when food becomes scarce again—wasting isn't a good trait to cultivate."

"But getting wasted is?"

"Mhh?"

"Playing innocent doesn't work for you, sensei." Sakura put the knife away and smiled up at him. "I don't remember you to be much of a drinker before we got separated. Seems like a new development."

"Beside the fact that you barely knew me for a year, imagine that, I see that you've become quite observant. Tell me, what conclusion do you draw from all this?"

She put a finger to her lips. "Hard to say. Maybe you missed us so much you started drinking to cope, and now you found out you like it more than you should."

"Is that all?"

"You mean the other version where you were sober before we met again, and now you're drunk because we're too much for you?"

"That's an adequate explanation," Kakashi said. "Good job."

Sakura drew another knife from her raw-hide holster and put it to the whetstone. When she looked up, Kakashi squatted in front of her. "Now," he said, "why don't you tell me how you know that I appropriated some supplies for personal use? I'm interested in hearing that story."

The closeness made her uncomfortable. Most memories she associated with his face so close to hers were of moments when he told her, in detail, of her weaknesses. She felt a flutter of anxiety in her stomach. Teary-eyed on a bench or up to the neck in sand, it made no difference. All moments like this made her feel ashamed. Would this become another?

Then a smell hit her and obliterated (only as this smell could) her insecurity. She leaned away from Kakashi. "Garlic," she said, "too much garlic. God, what have you been eating?"

Another wave of the obnoxious smell wafted over. "Garlic, obviously."

"And the mask?"

"Unimportant," he said. "Answer my question. Who told you?"

Sakura shrugged, putting the unfinished knife back into the holster. She would continue later. "You know how it is, sensei. I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a gal, who—"

"We're back!" came Naruto's voice from outside the tent. "You wouldn't believe that line, Sakura. I actually planned to murder all of them. Haggling with the guy even when a thousand people are waiting behind him. Could've strangled that asshole. But the length of that line…I can't believe it myself, and I damn well saw it with these blue eyes of—"

"Stop shouting in my ear, you moron," came Sasuke's voice. "And stop talking about your eyes."

The flap was pushed aside, and Sakura smiled as her teammates entered, both not paying attention to their surroundings. They had not seen Kakashi so far, who had also dampened his signature to become unnoticeable and was observing the spectacle.

"You're one to talk," Naruto said. "I can't believe we're even having this discussion."

"There's a difference between your eyes and mine," Sasuke said, slipping the cord holding the scabbard of his blade over his shoulder and throwing it absentmindedly onto his bedroll, not looking away from Naruto once.

"Yours are red and mine are blue. So what?"

"Are you willfully obtuse again, or do I really have to explain to you why my Sharingan is different?"

"There it is! The usual 'I am better than you' attitude! You're an arrogant prick, Sasuke, always were."

"I don't have to listen to that from someone who can't even fill a barrel of water without breaking a sweat."

Sakura winced. _That's a low blow_ , she thought. _At least he hasn't talked of getting captured yet. I don't want to see what happens then._ _Sasuke has no tact at all. But then, Naruto hasn't any either. They really do belong together_.

"Yeah? How about you learn how to shove—"

"Guys," Sakura said, "that's enough. Sensei's here."

There were times like this—times with no immediate danger threatening them—where both of them fell into behavior patterns that would fray the nerves of a saint and make even Odaya throw them out of his heavenly palace.

 _I am no saint though_ , Sakura thought. _So you better stop this shite right now or I will clobber you._

They did stop it and, even though it might only have been because of Kakashi's presence, she still attributed it to her own effort. Feeling as if she got a handle on Naruto and Sasuke was an important part of her self-confidence. She would not let that slip away from her.

Naruto turned to Kakashi. "Hey, sensei. Didn't see you there."

"I noticed," Kakashi said, now perching on the closed lid of a large wicker basket. His nose twitched. He changed locations again and stood now in front of Sasuke and Naruto, throwing furtive glances at the basket.

Sakura looked first at the basket and then at Naruto, who noticed her gaze and looked away. Their unwashed clothes resided where the heat did the unspeakable to them, and Naruto had forgone his duty far too often as of late.

Great. Now she felt like a hypocrite for teasing Kakashi about the smell. There was also a fair bit of mortification setting in, but she kept that buried as best she could.

Kakashi cleared his throat. "Now that I have your attention," he said. "We have a mission. Danzō wants you at command in thirty minutes."

"Details?" Sasuke said, but by then Kakashi was nothing more than a fading cloud of smoke.

* * *

Command, ringed by sentries, was a construction of a small entrance tent that passed into a larger one, circular and supported by wooden beams. Danzō waited on them, maps spread before him.

 _I can count on one hand the number of times I saw that man without a map_ , Naruto thought, as he filed in, assembling in a line with Sasuke and Sakura. Kakashi stood to the side, talking with Gaara in whispers.

"Team Seven," Danzō said, "you know of our current situation?"

"They're waiting for us," said Naruto. "A frontal attack would cost too much, since they have the defensive position."

"On open field," Sasuke said, "half our army would decimate them. We have to force them into moving."

Naruto thought that a sound idea. Everything to avoid scaling that wall in a prolonged siege. Entering through an open gate really was much easier. Also better for personal health and stress levels.

"We investigated the possibility of infiltrating and sabotaging their defensive structures," Kakashi said, "but those are well-guarded. They know of their importance and won't let us have a go at their gates that easily."

"How do we know that?" Sakura said.

"A former classmate of yours," Gaara said. "Hyūga Hinata. Her Byakugan proved helpful in assessing the situation."

Naruto glanced at Sasuke. _Hyūga politics, eh? Not everything is always as it seems. But that's more of a Kakashi thing to say. I settle on laughing at you for being wrong._ Sasuke noticed the look and returned it with fake disinterest. _Oh, you know exactly what I'm thinking, don't you? But that's the fun of it._

"We have found an alternative beside the gate, however," Kakashi said, and Naruto snapped back to attention. "Shishi is accessible through the water channel that runs down to Boeki Tōshi, and from there into the Nanmen Ocean. That side is fortified as well, but it offers an opportunity."

"Why haven't we blocked the port?"

"Sasuke is right," Sakura said. "That seems kind of, well, vital."

"Time," Gaara said, "is of essence. Even without the supply line, Shishi's food reserves are vast. They had years to stock up for an emergency, and the dust storm has likely not even scratched that."

Kakashi tapped on the map. "Blockading the port is wasted manpower as long as they could stall us for months anyway."

"You want to destroy their supplies first," said Sakura.

"Just so," Kakashi said.

Naruto raised an eyebrow. They made it sound so easy. "How do we get in and find their stash?"

"It's all taken care of," Kakashi said. "Or rather, we will take care of it once we're there."

"We?"

Kakashi smiled at them. "Of course, or did you think you would go alone? There's nothing quite like infiltrating a shinobi stronghold to keep in shape."

Which might be true, but saying that everything was taken care of was rather vague. Givenhis expression, Danzō thought so too, and being of the same opinion as him sent a shiver up Naruto's spine. That could never be a good sign.

"Stop your incessant prattling, Hatake," Danzō said. "Team Seven, your mission is to infiltrate Shishi alongside Hatake Kakashi and the future Kazekage, both of which will provide a distraction for you to enter the city. Hyūga Hinata will also accompany you in her capacity as a scout."

"She will?"

"Is there a problem, Uzumaki?"

"No," Naruto said. "Sensei, Gaara, Hinata and us…I had worse odds before."

"You're jinxing it already," said Sakura.

Danzō thumped his cane. "Team Seven, dismissed. Hatake, I trust that this farce of a siege will end soon."

* * *

The night after the briefing, the group of six assembled in front of the camp and set out, circling around the city in a wide arc to keep from being detected. They were silent until they arrived at the point behind the city from where they could see not just the walls but also the sickle-shaped port of the water channel.

Naruto peered over the dune, and then pressed himself into the sand again, feeling it molding to his body. The hilt of Sasuke's sword pressed against his flank, so he shifted to the side, bumping into Hinata. He had expected a quiet gasp, or her stiffening up, but all he got for his effort was a twitch. A cheap way to distract himself—though undoubtedly he should not be distracted at all. Still, after his imprisonment, infiltrating a keep of superior numbers sounded like lunacy to him, and he tried to think as little as possible of the worst case scenario.

"Everyone ready?" Kakashi said.

 _I can't remember a single time that we've been ready for something like this,_ Naruto thought.

Beside him, Hinata's breathing went steady. Then Kakashi gave the sign and they began moving. Sakura layered illusions around them to conceal their approach. Gaara split off from them halfway to the wall. Naruto kept his eyes on the target: a looming tower with orange dots moving about on every level.

But why was there no sound? Gaara should have reached the wall by now. But still there was no sound beside the slapping of sandals, shifting grains, and Sakura's breath next to him. _No noise_ , he thought, only yards away from the tower. _There must be noise. God damn, calm your tits, Uzumaki. Nothing will happen._

The orange dots became faces peeking out just above the wooden battlements rounding the tower at four different heights. Then their group arrived at the base of the tower, and still there was no sound.

Hinata scanned the upper levels of the tower and, crouching in the dark, Naruto heard the guards above. They were loud, and it was not the sound he wanted to hear. Their laughter made them human.

Then came an abrupt scream, followed by the monstrous thud of a wall being hit. The ground shook, and from above came the pounding of feet on wood, receding until it could not be heard anymore over the noise Gaara made.

Naruto looked to his left. Two miles away a gout of flame illuminated the night. The desert hovering protectively in front of him, Gaara stood before Shishi. Next to him, a fist of sand as big as a house smashed into the walls.

"Now," Kakashi said.

They scaled the wall, swinging over the wooden rails and entering into the tower. Hinata's eyes were a disturbing white whenever they moved through a patch of light and Naruto had to keep from staring, concentrating instead on her hand which formed signs at rapid speed, signaling what obstacles stood in their way.

Naruto and Sakura rammed a kunai and a knife respectively through the necks of two rebels who had not abandoned their posts in the tumult. The bodies fell to the ground, and Kakashi grabbed them before they hit the floor. Then he wished them good luck and made for Gaara's location. Even the future Kazekage would need help if he were to distract an army for the duration of this mission.

The white house fronts passed by in a blur as Team Seven followed Hinata's instructions to the middle of the city: a big plaza, its middle dominated by a large obelisk. Giant plates of stone stretched flat on it, like tiles of a bathroom.

"There," Hinata said, pointing at the tiles. "Below."

"Entrance?" Sakura said.

"All hidden near the northern wall."

"That's too far," Naruto said. He tapped his soles on the stone, thinking. The tile did not give way, but an idea shaped, forming the beautiful profile of a thin strip of paper full of scribbles.

"Let's blow it up," he said. "We can destroy this just as well from above."

"The mission said to get as much as possible," Sakura said. "They'll come running before we're done, even with Gaara and sensei distracting them."

"I'm sure they will," Naruto said, "but it's still a workable plan." He pushed his bundle of exploding tags into Sakura's hands. "Here, you're known for making a ruckus."

"How come?"

"Remember Orochimaru's roof?"

"Ah," Sakura said. "Who plays decoy?"

"Hinata and I," said Naruto, smiling at the blue-haired woman next to him. For the most part she had kept quiet so far, but in the moonlight Naruto noticed a faint blush on her cheeks. "Sasuke, you need to burn everything the explosion doesn't ruin."

"Riveting."

"I thought you like fire," Sakura said.

"When it hits moving targets."

"Get over it," Naruto said. "Come on, Hinata, we'll make sure those two get enough time." Turning to his teammates he added, "Let's get it right the first time. I don't want to come back to this place if possible. Wait until you've noticed my signal."

Sasuke grunted. "Get moving, or I'll light my tags under your body."

"Make it a big signal," Sakura said, as they were leaving.

"You bet I will," Naruto said.

* * *

It took Sakura the better part of two minutes to inspect the tiled plaza and the obelisk, finding vulnerable spots and, using the knowledge years of math at the academy had imparted, calculating where to place the tags and in which amounts to ensure that this whole plan would not end in a disaster.

Then, having placed all of them, she joined Sasuke on a nearby building overlooking the rooftops that went out from the plaza like ripples in a pond.

"You decided on how to do it?" she asked Sasuke.

"Fire." After an annoyed glare, he added, "More than a fireball. I'll have to go down to get everything."

"How long?"

"Until I'm done."

"Illuminating."

"It will be."

A drop of water splashed on Sakura's nose. She wiped it away with her thumb. "The sky was clear earlier. Is it raining?"

"I don't think so," Sasuke said. In the background a whooshing noise grew louder. "You might want to turn around."

She did, and her eyes widened. "He's having fun," she said. A wave had risen at the other end of the port, shading through its size even Shishi's towers. It roared alongside the wall, bucking like a wild horse against every obstacle it met. Then it lowered itself to the level of the houses, broke into smaller waves, filling the alleys and all within. There was a clangor of sound now: screaming, the crumbling of a house, a bell struck over and over again.

"That's the signal alright," she said. "Time to go, then."

She waited thirty seconds for more shinobi to be drawn to Naruto's position at the wall, then lit the exploding tags. The four tiles went up in a flash of gray and white. They crashed into the ground below, sending up a storm of dust.

Sasuke leapt down the side of the building, pushing through the smoke and vanishing into the ground. A second later, red and orange overtook gray as Sasuke did his work. Sakura wondered whether the rebels were organized enough to prevail in the three-pronged confusion their group had sown. The bells rang all over the city, and soon a few shinobi surely would appear at her position. By then, however, she and Sasuke would already be gone.

* * *

Near the wall Naruto ran into a dark passage and, turning left, vaulted through a window into an empty kitchen. He rolled onto the floor and waited for Hinata to join him, before pulling a serrated knife from the wooden block on the counter and throwing it at the rebel appearing by the window.

Naruto could not remember the last time he had grinned like this. It had been such a ridiculous amount of time since he last felt the chakra pumping through his body coalesce into a visible result. God, what a feeling! The anxiety over whether it still worked overthrown in seconds by the sheer magnitude of the wave behind him. The water as it rose from the bay and toward the sky, the rushing noise while it bore down on the port and then the outer layer of the city—beautiful. The wave that had buried Kabuto back at Lake Katsuron seemed impotent in comparison, and that, more than any words from Danzō or Kakashi, assured him his struggle with the desert had not been in vain.

Adrenalin rushed through his body just thinking of the wet, misty feeling on his neck as the wave tore past him, and he forced himself to push away the overwhelming need of letting himself drown in this feeling of accomplishment. But, God, it was hard.

"This way," Hinata said, running with him past a terrified civilian cowering behind his chair. Naruto's disarming smile proved entirely ineffective, but soon they were in the hallway and out of sight. From outside the house came noise.

"Where to next?" he said.

"The port is easiest," Hinata said. Her eyes were bulging and by now Naruto had come to appreciate them. "Your wave scattered them."

"It did, didn't it?" He almost laughed, riding still on the power high.

Together they left the house, Hinata leading the way. He had been hesitant at first in leaving the lead to her, but so far had not regretted his decision. She moved calmly and with incredible focus, and so he followed her swaying ponytail without doubt as they ran through the city.

Around the next corner she signed that the upcoming encounter with a group of three would be inevitable. He nodded, dashing forward when the group came in sight, blasting off the ground with chakra. The Chūnin opposite of him parried the incoming slash of his kunai, sparks flying either way. Before the fight could be prolonged, however, Naruto reached forward with his free hand, pulling open the guard and then slicing clear through the jugular. It always astounded him how often a simple move like that surprised the enemy.

He turned to the next, but was momentarily transfixed by the sight at the other end of the alley. Hinata moved fluidly around the attacks of her opponent, placing her strikes with surgical precision along the arms, legs, torso, and lastly the head of her enemy. Then the man fell to the ground, dead.

The pressure of air near his head alerted Naruto to the third of the group, whom he had forgotten for that short instance. Chiding himself, he shifted away from the ninja-to aimed at his neck. Mid-turn he jumped up, whirled around his axis, and crashed his geta-clad foot into the rebel's face. The woman shot away from him and impacted head-first on the wall, leaving behind fissures and a circular motif of blood.

The group dealt with, Hinata rejoined him. Together they made for the port again. Following, Naruto replayed what little he had seen of her, thinking that while he loved Sakura's ferocity in a fight, the grace with which Hinata had laid into her enemy was bewitching in its own way. Two different styles, but what a lovely sight. There was, in his mind, nothing quite like watching beautiful women fight.

Moving through the shadow behind her, he paid little attention to the ease with which he had turned that rebel woman's head into red mist just now, feeling instead a strange sense of satisfaction. She had been unfamiliar to him, but the fact that she belonged to the same group as Ren sated a thirst for revenge he had not yet acknowledged fully. That Temari, too, belonged to that group did not matter right now. His first two rebel kills since his imprisonment, and he could honestly say that they felt sweeter than they should were he to judge them by his usual moral standards. That satisfaction synergized with his earlier high of power and made him giddy almost to meet more rebels.

This was no waterless stretch of desert. Here he could take them, all of them if necessary, until this need for revenge was sated. Seldom, he found, had he connected more closely to Sasuke than now, when the Uchiha in question was not even in range of him.

Hinata stopped abruptly behind steps leading up to the third level of a house. She pressed herself against the wall, signaling with small movements that a group of seven blocked the quickest way to the port.

'They will leave in a few minutes,' she signed.

'How do you know?'

She smiled and pointed first at her eyes, then her lips.

'Not bad,' Naruto signed. 'But this is taking too long. We have to catch up with the others.'

Which constituted only half of the reason, of course. Well, not even a third if he were honest with himself. The grin still had not left his face, and he was staring at the wall as if looking through it, right at the place where he imagined the group of seven to stand.

'Let's go,' he signed. 'We can take them easily.'

He was about to move when Hinata grabbed his arm.

'What?'

'It is only three minutes till they leave,' she signed, looking strangely concerned.

Naruto tried to tone down the eagerness, supposing that it might seem a bit off-putting to her. He conjured his most objective expression, the fact-stating one that he always assumed during mission debriefings.

Then he signed, 'We can plough through them, no problem,' and, with precise motions, readied himself for a fight. He would have moved, too, if not for Hinata, who still held his arm and had that concerned look about her. What was it with that woman? Could she not see how easy this would be? A few minutes ago he had called down the wrath of the whole bay on them, and now she was scared of a few Chūnin?

'Come on, Hinata,' he signed, willing her to understand. 'It's no trouble. They're weak.'

'No.'

Naruto stared at her. Trying to win time by arguing he had expected, sure. That was par for the course. But an outright refusal? He wanted to try again, to reverse her opinion or just jump across the stairs hiding them and go on his own, but the sad look in her eyes held him back. That was something he was completely unused to seeing when it came to her. It proved enough of a shock that he did not attempt another try at convincing her, keeping quiet instead.

Moments later the rebels moved. In the short interval before the next group would arrive, Hinata and Naruto rushed unnoticed through the opening. The rest of the way was smooth-sailing, and soon they joined up with Kakashi and the others at the outskirts of Shishi. Sakura was in a celebratory mood, apparently glad that something went right for once, and even Sasuke deigned them with a content grunt. Naruto, however, felt none of that happiness and kept silently running beside them on the way back to camp, now and then glancing at Hinata.

* * *

Jubilance out of their system, the group reported their success to Danzō. The man had nothing celebratory to say, of course, but Sakura found that he looked relieved. His hand lay on his cane in a relaxed way. With the supplies destroyed, he now could position his forces to surround the city, choking the defenders until they decided that fighting, even with a slim chance, was preferable to dying of hunger.

"Any idea how long we'll have to wait for them to scurry out of the gates?" asked Naruto.

"Once their food runs out, Uzumaki," Danzō said. "If your teammates destroyed everything that should happen soon."

"I burned everything in reach," Sasuke said. "But as mentioned, the place was surprisingly empty for a city that should be stocked as good as you said it was."

Which neither Kakashi nor Danzō seemed overly worried about, Sakura noticed. They had listened to Sasuke's report earlier without moving a muscle. "Is there anything else, or are we free to go?" she asked.

"You are dismissed," Danzō said. Looking at Hinata he added, "I want you to draw up a precise map of what you saw inside the city. Anything unusual needs to be noted down."

 _Poor Hinata_ , Sakura thought. _Working overtime_ _for Danzō cannot be healthy._

Hinata though, head dipped, nodded in a way that conveyed both acceptance and reluctance at once, and did so with an unassuming elegance that somehow, despite the inherent intent, did not make it seem like an insult. A useful talent that conjured a slight thrum of envy in Sakura.

Elegance gave way to surprise when, with a loud croak, a toad appeared beside Hinata. It slammed a webbed hand on the ground, black lines sprawled across the ground, and she rolled to the side, coming up beside Sakura in her family's stance.

A blast, a flash of gray—all eyes were directed on the newcomer, who appeared in the vanishing clouds of smoke, hunched and holding his side.

"Jiraiya-sensei?" Sakura said, venturing a step forward.

"Hello there," Jiraiya said with an easy smile, waving away the smoke. He looked at the weapons pointed at him. "Is that any way to greet the legendary me? I would have expected better."

"Why are you here?" Danzō asked.

"The ladies of Wind Country are one of a kind…of course I had to visit. Letting you have all the fun didn't appeal to me."

Sakura saw Naruto twitch and for a second grinded her teeth. _Ladies of Wind Country indeed_.

As the last vestiges of smoke dissipated toward the top of the tent, Jiraiya became fully visible. Sakura sucked in her breath at the sight. The Sannin, she knew from books and personal experience, constituted monsters on the battlefield. They possessed the skills to eradicate armies and counted among the most famous personalities to emerge from Konoha. The presence of one alone could change the tide of a battle, had, in fact, changed the tide of many battles.

Jiraiya of the Sannin looked like he had wrestled with some deity or another, barely making it out alive. In place of his left ear she found a bandaged stump which looked as though he had lost half of it. The little finger on his right was missing as well, and the other wounds scattered over his body—lacerations, bruises, burns—seemed treated in some fashion but far too fresh. The loss of hair though, now that stupefied her the most. It barely reached his shoulders and was crudely cut, and it made him look so different that for a second she wondered who this imposter could be.

Noticing her look, Jiraiya grinned tightly. "It burned. I had to cut it off."

She thought that he could use his Hari Jizou to remedy the problem, but then remembered who she was thinking of. As if Jiraiya had not considered that himself. If he still appeared before them with short hair, then not even that technique could help.

"How did this happen?" Kakashi said.

Jiraiya brushed off imaginary dust. "Met the wrong guys and got into an argument."

"The wrong guys?" Sasuke said, tone suffused with slight incredulity.

"Just so," Jiraiya said. He looked about the room until his eyes settled on Hinata. "Sorry to say, but I think you'll have to sit this one out."

Hinata hesitated, then nodded her acquiescence. To Danzō she said, "I will deliver a detailed outline tomorrow," and walked away afterward, Jiraiya's attention focused solely on her swaying behind. A swaying, Sakura found, which looked so natural and unforced it should be forbidden.

When Hinata had left the tent, Jiraiya turned to them. "I hope you don't know this joke already, so here it goes: what happens when a Sannin, Akatsuki, and two Jinchūriki meet in the mountains?"

His words strangled the room into silence. Enough of it that Sakura could hear in clear detail laughter from outside.

"Have you met him?" Sasuke asked, lips a thin line.

"Itachi? No. I don't think he's been all that active in the last few years. His encounter with sensei must've scared him good. I met an unfriendly duo of immortals. Not the funniest time I ever had, but it was alright until Eight and Two got involved." Jiraiya pointed at his ear. "Things went kind of downhill from there."

"What about—"

"We can talk about this later," Jiraiya said, cutting off Naruto's question. "For now it's important to know that we had this battle royale in the Kaminari Mountains." Glancing at Team Seven, he added, "The heart of Lightning Country."

"Reactions?" Kakashi said.

"Not favorable. So far Kumo hasn't mobilized any troops, but my presence alone will have them quickly cotton on to the fact that things are fishy."

"What were you doing there in the first place?" Naruto said. "I thought you were stationed with Jiji."

"Classified."

"But—"

Kakashi's hand came to rest on Naruto's shoulder. "Classified means just that, Naruto."

Danzō, who had till then been silent, cleared his throat in a manner that forced attention, whether you wanted to give it or not. "Has Hiruzen issued new orders?"

Jiraiya nodded. "What he said amounts to 'hurry up and get Wind Country settled.' Kumo and Kiri are unknowns now. We can't afford to get further tied up here. Likewise, leaving would send a strong message, just the wrong one."

"With your arrival," Danzō said, "things should progress faster."

Jiraiya laughed. "Nice try, but no dice. I've other duties. Sensei needs me back as soon as possible."

Sakura asked, "Will you go back to the Kaminari Mountains?"

"Classified."

A frustrating answer, Sakura noticed now that she got hit with it as well. She knew better than to ask again.

"When will you leave?" Danzō asked. Good question. If he stayed for a few days, he at least might be able to participate in the battle for Shishi, which would make taking the city much easier.

"Soon. Five minutes at most."

"That's…not much," Kakashi said.

 _Understatement of the year_ , Sakura thought, eying the toad still perching next to Jiraiya.

"It isn't," Jiraiya said, "but you know as much as I do about current affairs. There's not much to discuss beyond that. Sensei makes sure to keep me busy." Nodding at Team Seven, he said, "Time's almost up, but I want a word with you three before I go."

* * *

Outside the tent and a few steps away from the surrounding circle of torches, Jiraiya created a privacy field that buzzed on Naruto's skin. Team Seven huddled around the Sannin, who eyed each of them for several seconds. The silence engulfing them stretched long, and proved so different from how Naruto remembered Jiraiya to be. It had been a while, but he did not know a person could change like that in just two years. Jiraiya looked happy to see them, but his smile was tired.

"So, what's up?" Naruto said, tilting his head. "And before you ask, I'll try one of your books once we're done here in Wind Country. No time before that."

Jiraiya snapped out of his staring and laughed, though it sounded forced. "Afraid some skin will kill you?" More serious, "Listen…I want you to be careful, okay? You're strong now and all kinds of awesome, I get that, but don't be idiots when you're out there."

"You're worried about Akatsuki," Sakura said.

"Only a moron wouldn't be." Jiraiya motioned to the bandaged stump where his ear had been. "I've to thank them for this little goody. Kind of a wakeup call, I'd say. And not a good one…They're dangerous alright. So, when things get tough in the desert, keep to what or who you know. Stay close to Kakashi—that's mostly a safe bet."

While talking Jiraiya stared intensely at Naruto, as if he might lose him in the next minute. Looking back, Naruto wondered if he should tell Jiraiya of the Kyuubi. _If there ever was someone who could help me it's you_ , he thought. _But you look so damn tired, old pervert. Maybe I shouldn't bother you with this after all. I ought to deal with it myself. You have enough problems of your own already._

The moment he resolved himself to this, however, doubts crept up on him again. Control of the situation lay as far away as ever, a state unchanged for months. How much escalation, then, until that chaos grew deadly, exploding under his feet in a roar of red heat and malice, taking the world with it, or just what he perceived of the world but which still encompassed all the important persons he would not want to see harmed?

Jiraiya stood before him and had, in that brief moment of thought, gained back neither the length of his hair, the ear he missed, or the color of skin painted over not by bruises but red lines. He lacked what made him a normal fixture, staying a tired caricature instead which by sheer unusualness made it even harder to ask him of carrying yet another burden. But what other way was left to him? He himself knew little of taming a Biju after all.

 _I'm sorry,_ he thought, stepping forward, expression drawn taut."Jiraiya-sensei, can I talk to you for a second?"

"I'm sure you can if you try." Jiraiya bared his teeth in a grin, two of them chipped. "Sorry," he said to Sasuke and Sakura, "but a man's porn is strictly between himself and his supplier. We'll be back in a moment."

"It's okay," said Sakura. "We're going back. It was good seeing you, Jiraiya-sensei."

"Hn."

"You two take care, then," Jiraiya said. "I don't want to hear that anyone died on your team."

Sakura snapped off a salute. "Will do." She did not look at Naruto while walking away with Sasuke, and neither did Sasuke while walking away with her. The absence of a strange glance, the inquiring gaze, made the situation queer. Questions, then, were inevitable. At a later date, that was.

Once they were out of range, Jiraiya's shoulders straightened. His eyes grew sharp. Naruto could not find humor in his expressions anymore, although not much of tiredness either, both being equally lost to conjecture about the seriousness of this request.

 _But the tiredness isn't really gone, is it? You're just soldiering through, somehow. You're just as tired as before, and now I'm going to unload on you something that'll make you even more weary. Great job, Uzumaki_.

The feeling of burdening people who already had enough on their plate, of having to rely on them because in the end he turned out to be not nearly as strong as he thought he was, haunted him right then. And if there ever had been a reason beside protecting his team for becoming stronger, or learning Fūinjutsu, it was this.

 _Next time I'll be better_ , he thought. _Next time you won't have to pull my ass out of the fire, or anyone else. I'll be strong enough that you can rest after fighting your own battles. Strong enough that I can make sure to fight your battles should you need help, goddamn it._

"So," Jiraiya said, "what's the problem?"

"Can you keep it secret?"

"Depends." Jiraiya sat down on a crate nearby. "I won't hand out guarantees, you know that. But I'll take it into consideration."

That was as much as he could have hoped for, Naruto knew. In the end it came down to whether he trusted Jiraiya with this. He certainly trusted Kakashi as well, but Kakashi always seemed so unapproachable, and while he liked him, conversation felt different. It was a feeling he never once had with Jiraiya. With Kakashi, he could not at all gauge whether the man would send him back to Konoha, which made him wary. Jiraiya at least offered him a small sense of security. He could not be entirely sure there either, but had the feeling that he got a better read on him.

He counted to three, the last chance to back out. Then, "I have problems with the Kyuubi."

There, it was out now. God knew what Jiraiya would make of it. When Naruto looked at him, the man reminded him rather of a statue. He sat rigidly on his crate, eyes searching.

"In what sense?"

"It kept me alive during…" Naruto hesitated to say torture. Did Jiraiya even know about that? Should he know?

"Yes?"

"…occasions that should have had me dying and bleeding out."

"Well," Jiraiya said, "that's what the fox is for. About the only useful thing to come out of the whole business, I'd say." Then his lips thinned. "You didn't fight with it, did you?"

"Once."

"When?"

"We were attacked by another Jinchūriki—Rōshi."

Jiraiya's eyes twitched once, then the flash of concern gave way to a perfected look of objective interest. But Naruto had seen it. For civilians this meant nothing. For shinobi like Jiraiya, a lapse of control, however minor, told everything.

"I haven't heard that name in a while," Jiraiya said. "You should still avoid using the Kyuubi to fight when you can."

"I plan to, but why?"

"There are…reasons. For now I want to know what your problem is. Has the fight damaged the seal?"

Naruto wanted very much to learn of these reasons, but Jiraiya would not speak about them, even if prompted further. That night, Jiraiya's slip up of making visible his concern, brief thought it was, would remain a singular occurrence.

"I don't know, that's the problem," Naruto said. "And it's not just the fighting that's bad. It kept healing me but I felt it grow stronger doing so. And now I've these sporadic…attacks. It's always hot, and—I don't know what else. It's bad. That's what I mean. Can you do something?"

"Maybe," Jiraiya said, taking him by the shoulder, "but not here."

Naruto felt the chakra around him compress and fold in on itself, one string attaching to his navel, then pulling, onward through a thin tunnel, in a rush that seemed at once impossible slow, particles dancing in his view, then speeding up until all colors mixed in an uncontrolled mesh. The colors cut off abruptly and fresh wind hit his face. The surroundings shaped into objects he could recognize again: on the horizon reaching high, the lit flames of Shishi's battlements; three miles away in the dark, the fires of Konoha. Sound came from both sides, though the city trumped the camp by far. In the aftermath of the mission, alarms had yet to stop being sounded.

"That's better," Jiraiya said, leading him behind a formation of rocks so the patrols on Shishi's walls would not see them. "Now, get rid of your shirt and let me have a look."

Naruto complied, loosening first the straps, then pulling over his head the vest and his black shirt. His abdominal muscles twitched as the evening wind laid a flat palm on his skin. Jiraya knelt beside him. He sheathed his fingertips in chakra, tracing line for line the seal on Naruto's stomach, murring 'oh' and 'ah' but caring little for elucidating on their cause. The chakra hummed under Naruto's skin, vibrating yet never entering the system of coils beyond a surface sweep.

"You say you had these attacks," Jiraiya said. "How often?"

"Three times."

"Your teammates know of them?"

"The first one. Found anything?"

The light died down. "Looks alright to me," Jiraiya said, "but for a detailed inspection I'd need a lot more time, different equipment, and definitely another location. A besieged city is not the place for this." When Naruto kept silent he said, "You should come to Konoha, but then again, you don't like that idea, do you?"

"I want to stay with my team."

"Figured as much." Jiraiya picked up Naruto's shirt and vest, holding up both to him. "You know you're a danger to them like this, right? If this seizure recurs during a fight, you're toast. As are they."

Naruto slipped into the shirt. "Anything you can do?"

Jiraiya stared at him for a long time, and Naruto looked back but soon found that he could not return the stare the same way he had returned Danzō's. This was different. Jiraiya was different. After a while, however, Jiraiya took the scroll from his back and unsealed a handful of brushes, ink, and several strips of paper, each half as big as an exploding tag. Kage Bunshin popped into existence beside him. They went to work, the brushes in their hands blurring.

"These," one Jiraiya said, "are suppression seals for demonic chakra. They're not specifically tailored to the Kyuubi, so it's not a surefire way to keep all of it in. They need contact with your skin to work."

Work done, he rose and help open his hand. Each Kage Bunshin deposited two suppression seals in his waiting palm, then dispelled itself.

"Take them," Jiraiya said, pressing the bundle into Naruto's hand. "But be careful. Don't use the Kyuubi until we can confirm what's wrong with the seal. And," he said, gripping Naruto's shoulder and leaning in close, "I want you to go to Kakashi should the seals stop working. I understand why you want to keep it under wraps, but you're gambling with lives here, and not just your own."

"Will do," Naruto said, unsure of what else he could say in this situation. Holding these slips of paper in his hand gave him a sudden sense of security he had not known to be possible before. He still felt like crap for having Jiraiya do this when he had looked so tired, but the knot in his stomach uncoiled now that he had a way to combat the Kyuubi's influence. That alone made him breathe a little easier.

"I guess that's it," Jiraiya said and, crisis averted, his shoulders slouched again. "Sorry that we can't make this a longer reunion, but I need to be back on duty soon."

"Thank you."

"That's what I'm for." Jiraiya smiled at him. "Make sure to keep alive. We'll have a longer talk once Suna is settled and the war has calmed down a bit." Then he suddenly reached out, pulling Naruto into a hug. It was over quick, leaving not even enough time for Naruto to stiffen up at the contact, as he usually did nowadays. A moment later a toad raced through hand seals, a net of ink spread, and Jiraiya vanished in a plume of smoke.

Starting on the way back to the camp, Naruto thought, _Once I'm back in Konoha I'll find a way to deal with the fox once and for all. I'm tired of your shit, hear me, Kyuubi? I'll find a way and make sure you're gone for good. So don't get too comfy in that damn sewer. You won't stay there much longer._

* * *

The night Jiraiya left, Kakashi met once more with Danzō and Gaara. He had not shown it in front of his team, but the reports of strange occurrences were adding up. It made him wary of Shishi and the rebels, even though they now lacked a majority of their food supplies. He did not belong to the people who believed there existed no such thing as coincidence. Accounting for pure chance became harder though as the pile of evidence mounted, in tandem ratcheting up his paranoia as well.

"The possibility of Kumo's involvement forces our hand, Hatake." Danzō took a pin from the cluster before the red circle that marked Shishi on the map. "It is regrettable, but the situation necessitates haste. We will change our plans accordingly." He put the pin near a city far to the west. "In two days you will take half of this army and march for Ike. From there, advance toward the Nanman Ocean and complete the pincer on Hajim."

The plan had not changed in essence, then, beside Danzō moving up the timeline. Less shinobi near Shishi could also embolden the defenders, however. That way, blockading the port as well as keeping a large enough force to fight against a sudden sally became that much harder. Still, despite his misgivings about the man, Kakashi had little doubt in Danzō's military capability.

"I assume you will take the other way, going for Boeki Tōshi once Shishi has fallen," Kakashi said.

"An inane question," said Danzō.

Kakashi smiled at him. "I need the strength of this army if you want me to take the capital. That can't be done with injured or old shinobi."

"Sukoru should not be the focus," Gaara said. Kakashi was quite surprised to hear him speak. "The last reports indicate that the city is haven only to Sawada at the moment. Whatever the rebels wanted, beside him as the Daimyo, they already have."

"It's still their capital," Kakashi said.

"It is also too far away," Danzō said. "The city has worth in that it will strengthen Iho-dono's claim once his brother falls. Our concern right now though is the rebels. Iho-dono will be included in these plans only if the path to take aligns with our current goal." He paused. "Hatake, on the way to Ike you will come across several villages at major crossroads of the desert highways."

Kakashi frowned. "You want Iho to give speeches?"

"As long as it does not impede your progress toward the cities by too much," Danzō said. "Lay the foundation with the civilians. Once Senyaku is dealt with, we will put Iho-dono on the throne."

"I will still need the majority of Chūnin," Kakashi said, leaning against a post. "Ike is a long way through the desert."

"You shall have what you need," Danzō said, "though I will keep most of the trackers with me. If the rebels try to break out of Shishi, we need to spot it quickly."

Acceptable, though Kakashi would not go entirely without reconnaissance. "Inuzuka Kiba and Hyūga Hinata. Those two, and you can have the rest."

"Take the Hyūga," Danzō said.

"I will need both."

"You will get the Hyūga."

Kakashi shrugged before the ensuing silence became bothersome. He had not counted on receiving both in the first place, but it always paid off while haggling to start from a high point. "What about you, Kazekage-dono?"

Gaara looked up from the map. The squabble of Konoha's commanders had apparently held no interest for him. "I am not yet the Kazekage."

"You are, for all intents and purposes," Kakashi said. "Suna knows it will happen eventually, and the few shinobi you have with you already see you as such. There's no point in talking around it."

The redhead did not enter into the argument and said, "I will march with Councilor Danzō. My Genin need more experience and are not ready yet to cross large stretches of the desert. I will stay with them."

Kakashi hummed in his throat. The second reason needed no verbalization. If Iho went with Kakashi and successfully strengthened his claim, then that would prove a strong placating factor working for them in the West. That, however, was only one side of the equation. The command structure of Wind Country was bilateral, much more so than in other nations with shinobi villages. If the Daimyo constituted one side of the coin, then the Kazekage represented the other. Gaara would stay with Danzō, fortifying a presence of authority in the East.

 _It works well enough in theory_ , Kakashi thought, _but the desert is a far cry away from theory. They are both young and inexperienced. Unknowns. I wonder how many people will be swayed by them, if any will be swayed at all._

They knew that as well, however, and Kakashi kept his silence in this regard. Rather he reminded them of the suspicious tidbit Sasuke's report had provided.

"Shishi's supplies should have been far larger," he said. "Add to that the cut fields of Desert Sage all across the country, the plundered Rakaji caves—for which our scouts reported rebel involvement—and the strange occupation of Sukoru and subsequent retreat from it. I'm unsure what their plan is, but I do believe one exists."

"You are stating the obvious, Hatake."

"Any orders, then, _Commander_ Danzō? I would not want to spring a trap I cannot escape."

"Be careful."

Kakashi could not say whether Danzō meant that in regards to the rebels' plan, or as a warning against further potshots. He decided that it did not matter all that much. To be careful was always a good thing to do.

"Of course," Kakashi said, nodding quite seriously. "I will leave you two to it then. I'm sure you have a lot to plan still."

* * *

 **AN:** Well, that's it, folks. How'd you like it? What parts did you like best? Anyway, see you again next week.


	16. Scattered II

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Scattered II**

* * *

" _Power is the most persuasive rhetoric."_

* * *

The village of Akisam lay beside a small mountain visible from miles away. Imperial roads from Ike, Hajim, Shishi, and Sukoru met at this juncture, and one week after being deployed, the army under Hatake Kakashi moved in.

"I thought this place would be bigger," Sakura said. Team Seven was walking among the last third of the army. "It seems critical."

"I doubt they can support that many people," Naruto said.

They still had not entered the village, and Sasuke surveyed the surrounding land. A broken fence closed off an area at the foot of the mountain. The hillside slope was jammed solid with sand-colored houses and before the village, almost at the foot of the hill, was a field of green stumps where Desert Sage had grown before. They had been cut a while ago, the smell of peppermint that accompanied the cut stems long gone.

To the south he noticed a dead field of what he assumed to have been the hardy variation of beans they had learned to grow in this region. The last village, too, had sported a similar sight. The farmers, Naruto told him, would love to re-sow their fields, but the Yellow Desert Bloom, the regulated insecticide necessary to keep Hiaa-Bees away, failed to arrive from the capital.

Sasuke shook his head. The troubles of farmers should not be his concern.

Akisam's houses were sand-colored, the streets narrow. More than three people walking beside one another was a tight squeeze as they passed the outer ring of the village. Moving farther inside, it then became an impossibility altogether.

They just arrived at the small marketplace, when they heard Kakashi give out orders. Not to them specifically, but to the shinobi there as a whole. Village meetings were held at a large stone on the hill beside the village. And as Kakashi had commanded for the last two villages as well, they were to round up the people so Iho could make his speech.

"Joy," said Sakura. Sasuke found it telling that even she, as Iho's lone supporter on Team Seven, grimaced at the thought.

"Think he'll do it this time?" said Naruto.

"He better," Sasuke said. So far Iho turned out to be everything Sasuke had thought he was when they fled Sukoru—a liability, nothing more.

Like the other Konoha-nin who received the order from Kakashi, Team Seven went from house to house, mindful of the ones already emptied out. They knocked at doors, asking residents to please step out and follow them. Most did, if only out of fear, and the string of people behind them grew.

"Last house for us," Naruto said, knocking at a door. "Come out please, we're taking you to the meeting place."

The door did not open for them, but Sasuke heard a weak sob from inside. Naruto knocked again. "Listen," he said, louder, "please come out! Let's get this over with, and then you don't have to see us again."

"Persuasive," Sakura muttered. Naruto looked at her with irritation, and she raised her hands in surrender, mouthing a 'sorry.'

The sobbing continued, but the door remained closed. Naruto sighed and rolled his shoulder. "I'm sorry for the door," he said with false joviality, but all Sasuke saw in his expression was distaste at having to do this to these people in the first place.

"Ah, Shinobi-sama," came a voice from the group of civilians behind them. It belonged to an old man with hunched shoulders and more furrows in his face than a thumb had lines. The people made space for him as he walked, trembling, over to Naruto.

"Just Naruto."

 _If you think that will calm him down any, you're wrong_ , Sasuke thought. _These people fear us as though all we do is bring disease, blood, and horror. And maybe they are not wrong to think that._

"I…I apologize for speaking out, Naruto-sama, but old Sham is living in there with his granddaughter. He is sick, too sick to move, and Tsuki had her eighth name day last month—she's so young still—and we try to help them when we can, and—" The old man stopped, as if remembering to whom he was speaking. Head bowed, looking at the street and wringing his hat, he continued, "She might be too young to understand, Naruto-sama."

"Can you get her to let us in?" Naruto said. "I don't want to break the door if I can help it."

The man nodded and, after Naruto cleared some space, he knocked and called inside. "Tsuki," he said. "It's me, Uncle Hisam. Please, little moonbeam, open the door; I need to talk to you."

Sasuke heard soft footfall. The door stayed close, but a tiny voice said, "What do they want with grandpa, Uncle?"

"Not just him," Hisam said. "You too, little moonbeam, and me, and all the others. Aunt Ume, Cousin Shia, even old Gyka. They will tell us important things at the stone."

"Grumpy Gyka?" Tsuki asked through the door. "But he hates those meetings."

"This time he is coming, Tsuki, so please, open the door." Hisam glanced at Naruto, sweat running down his brow. Naruto mouthed that it was fine, and Sasuke thought: _You are too soft, Naruto. I understand, but you are too soft for this_.

"Little moonbeam," Hisam said, "if you open the door I will tell you a story when the meeting is done, I promise."

A pause, then Tsuki said, "About the lion and the crown of Eas?"

Hisam chuckled weakly, and Sasuke thought that not even a child would fall for that. "Yes, even about the lion and the crown of Eas."

But Sasuke did not know children, or maybe he just failed to comprehend to what extent Tsuki trusted her Uncle Hisam. A moment later the door creaked open. The head of a small child poked out. Her namesake, a crown of her own, shone in the sun. Seeing them, she tried to get inside again, but Hisam proved quick for an old man and held her in his arms, whispering into her white hair. "It's alright, little moonbeam," he said. "They only want to talk with us. Do not worry, child. They won't hurt you, nor will they hurt your grandfather. It's alright."

Sasuke noticed that Naruto could not stand looking at the scene. "What about the grandfather?" he asked. "He's unable to move, right?"

Tsuki did not answer, but Naruto took that as his cue to peek inside the house. "Sakura," he said, "I think this one's for you."

"On it," she said, creating a long slab of earth with grip-like protrusions at each corner. "Not the most comfortable, but it'll do. It's only for a short while."

"We need four people to carry him," Naruto said.

Three men and one woman raised their hands, needing neither prompting nor having questions. Sasuke thought that Naruto might have offered to carry the old man inside the house himself, but he was sure even Naruto noticed that the people here would not like it. The four villagers went with the slab inside the house and carefully transferred the old man from his bed to the earthen stretcher. Then they lifted it and walked outside. As they passed Team Seven, the old man on the slab opened his eyes blearily. He looked like an owl to Sasuke, with his long, white eyebrows and the beaklike nose.

The man, too weak to move his head, seeing the glaring sun above through squinted eyes, and likely feeling the buoyant sensation of being carried, and maybe not being completely sound of mind, said, "It is time already then," and smiled at the sun. " _Shirem Ahizev_ , Odaya. My gratitude for your care."

* * *

On the crest of the hill the villagers assembled in a half-circle around a large patch of dried grass. There, against the backdrop of a knife-shaped rock, Iho wrung his hands and paced. Wind carried over brown leaves from three desert willows that were leaning over the edge of a rocky cliff at the other side of the hill.

Konoha guarded the perimeter. The shinobi kept enough distance to appear unthreatening, your friendly neighbor almost, and not at all ready to draw on a still not sated thirst for revenge should it come to blows. Naruto believed that, once more, Team Seven had drawn the short stick. They took up position behind Iho, responsible for the prospective Daimyo's security.

 _I hope you make more sense now_ , Naruto thought, adjusting his weapon pouches. The last speech Iho gave had ended in a disaster, the audience pelting him with sand as he left the erected stage. A few sentences into this speech, however, that hope dwindled. Again. The people cared little for what he said. They listened because Konoha made clear that today doing anything else was not an option.

Iho spoke of his legitimacy, the real events that transpired the day his father died, and offered tentative plans that might, in a few years, help out the population. His rhetoric posed no problem; the carrying voice helped, too. But, Naruto thought, he lacked fire, the single force that could electrify a people, galvanizing them into action. As he spoke, Iho seemed devoid of passion. He reeled off his speech, going through the necessary points in concise and practiced order.

Examining the faces of the audience, Naruto knew they thought the same. Some nodded along, stealing glances at the shinobi around them. Those listeners possessed good survival instincts. Others carried blank expressions or scowled at the prince. The deference Hasim had shown the shinobi turned out to be a singular occurrence. It proved to have been doubly brave of the old man, Naruto later learned, since of all the people present at that time, Hisam had been the only one with prior negative experiences regarding shinobi.

Naruto thought it just as sad as inspiring that the old man who feared them most had been the one to speak up. Hisam's desire to protect the child had overshadowed his crippling fear of what horror shinobi might visit on his shriveling body.

The other listeners knew them to be soldiers, of course. They noticed their weapons, after all. But they had not yet tasted the despair that came from being pitted against shinobi. For now they thought them people, not monsters. The defiance in their face thus entirely appropriate to them.

Iho's speech came to an end, but that was hardly the part which mattered most.

 _Legitimacy is only important when times are good_ , Naruto thought. _But times aren't good right now. The wells are empty, and each day hunger swells more bellies_. _They don't care whether you are the rightful ruler, Iho. They want to know if you can solve their problems. Because becoming a ruler is always only half of the equation, and not nearly as important as truly being one._

When Iho stopped talking, a young man—shorn head, hollow-cheeked with black stubble—stepped forward. "Is this you, or is this Konoha?"

Another listener: "We are hungry! What good are you if we keep starving?"

"The storm took everything from us," a woman called out. "Now you come with this…this army of foreigners! Your father—Odaya take care of him—would have never let this happen!"

"If he even is his son!"

"Why should we believe anything you say?"

Mocking laughter: "Because he has Konoha standing behind him. Why else?"

Troubled by life, people liked to talk themselves into rage now and then. Today was no different. The smart ones moved away from the growing unrest, but the mob pushed them back. More questions came, to which Iho could not answer. The shinobi around the circle of civilians remained quiet. Their hands though, in a collective phenomenon, rested near their weapon pouches.

The hollow-cheeked man took a step forward, as did Sasuke, who did not have to unsheathe his sword fully for the message to sink in. Naruto applauded that he noticed no reluctance in Sasuke's expression. To the world he looked like a blank sheet of paper. You would be hard pressed to find any emotion at all.

Iho raised his voice to answer. The aloofness toward his listeners' problems, however, left him discarded among the growing discontent. In the end he turned his back on the still arguing people of Akisam, walked away from the stone, and took the downhill slope leading back to the village. Team Seven followed him, hearing halfway to the desert willows, "Let Sawada keep this rotten country."

* * *

After depositing Iho at his tent, Sakura led her teammates through the village and back up the hill. Shading her face, she leaned against a desert willow, watching the sunset. The sun doused the sparse patches of grass in warm orange, and she thought that if this country were half as peaceful as its sunset were beautiful, things would be much easier for them. She let herself slide down the trunk, reclining her head and listening with closed eyes to the cicadas rattling above.

Sasuke and Naruto kept quiet. Had they recognized her need for a moment of silence? But she knew this state of tranquility could not last forever. Not with what had happened at the village meeting.

Dry leaves crunched beside her. Regret numbing her body, Sakura opened her eyes to the world again. There, problems stacked by the dozens, and answers came in such infrequent spurts that she questioned whether they weren't just even more trouble disguised as solutions. Problems in sheep's clothing, as it were.

"I can't believe he just left," she said, grudgingly coming to terms with her period of respite being at an end. "Last time was bad, but this is ridiculous. How can he just fucking leave?"

"Your language is slipping." Naruto, a familiar weight beside her, grinned in that forced way that always made her want to punch something. Preferably him.

"I don't give a shit," she said.

"How very base of you."

Sakura squinted first at him, then at Sasuke. The Uchiha raised an eyebrow in a motion frightening similar to her own.

"You're an idiot," Sasuke said to Naruto.

"For once I concur," said Sakura.

And just like that, the tenseness in her shoulders dissipated. Naruto had a way of transforming even the most forced of actions and, organically almost, changing them into something truthful. _Maybe that's his gift_ , Sakura thought, wry but grateful. _I can't remember the last time he failed to make me smile_. _Though that probably says as much about me as it does about him._

"I will talk to Iho."

Sakura's attention snapped to Sasuke.

"You will talk to him?" Naruto said. "Yeah, I can see that going over well. 'Hey, prick, why don't you try being competent for a change. I heard it's good form for ruling a country.' He will be thrilled, I'm sure."

"I think Sasuke has something more forceful in mind," Sakura said.

"I do."

"Not that I'm against instilling good values," Naruto said, "but you do remember his role in this, right? I know it's hard to believe, but he's rather important."

Sasuke crossed his arms. "I won't kill him."

"No Genjutsu either," Naruto said.

 _Touchy, touchy_ , _both of them_ , Sakura thought.

"What exactly do you want to tell him?" she said. "I'm not against it, mind. Just asking."

"Enforced negotiations."

Sakura sighed. "You know how that sounds, right?"

"I also want to talk to him alone." He smiled thinly. "Naruto has to distract the guards, and you'll have to keep us hidden with an illusion until I'm done."

Naruto began, "Are you—"

"Do you trust me?" Blunt as a the butt of a kunai.

Sakura blinked, trying to reassure herself that the world still spun on its axis. What mysterious and foreign words to leave Sasuke's mouth. But once she started thinking, she decided that they were, in essence, and in this situation, a decidedly Sasuke thing to say.

There was no way either Naruto or Sakura would say 'No' to that question, or do anything to even imply such an answer. Sasuke had closed the debate with a single question, saving himself another half an hour of justification.

Sakura pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know what you did there, and of course we do." Pushing herself into a standing position she added, "Wipe that smirk of your face, Uchiha, or I'll do it for you. You better not kill him."

"Just get me in a tent with him."

 _And that makes me feel a whole lot better,_ Sakura thought. _Thanks a bunch, Sasuke_.

"Get you in a tent with him?" Naruto said. "Want to share a bed next? But no worries, I'm not judging."

Ignoring the ensuing mutual barrage of insults, Sakura made for the camp.

* * *

"Listen, guys," Sasuke heard Naruto say to the guards in front of Iho's tent, "I know it seems sudden, but there's been a mess-up with the orders for tomorrow. Ikoma-san is reassigning them personally now."

Listening in from behind the tent, Sasuke palmed his head. They would never fall for that.

One shinobi sighed. "Where is he?"

"Outskirts. He's been training when he noticed something was wrong."

"Can you be any less specific, Uzumaki?"

"Well, excuse me for telling you in the first place," Naruto said. "No need to get prissy."

"I'm…sorry?"

Silence. Then, "It doesn't matter anyway. I'll bring you to him, no sweat."

"You can find him?"

"Who do you take me for? Of course I can."

Receding footfall followed the exchange. Sasuke could not quite grasp what had happened. The incompetency it took to swallow that load hovered beyond his capacity to imagine. At least he recognized the name Ikoma. The man owed Naruto a substantial amount of money.

Sasuke opted for forgetting that he had ever witnessed a security atrocity such as this and signed Sakura to layer the soundproofing Genjutsu around the tent. Inside, he found Iho perching cross-legged on a stool, forehead pressed against the mouth of a bottle. Rakaji, and not a small amount either according to the smell. Next to the prince stood a bowl with sugared fruits, half empty. The missing half—dates, figs, strawberries—lay scattered on the table. A few had fallen into the straw below.

Iho gave no sign of noticing the new presence in the tent. As Sasuke walked up to the man until he stood right beside him, the smell of Rakaji mingled with the smoke from the conical brazier. It did not take a trained assassin to kill the prince right now. _It doesn't even take an adult_ , Sasuke thought. _What a pathetic waste of space._

"We need to talk," he said.

Iho jerked up, looking blearily at Sasuke. His skin sported a circular, red mark where his forehead had connected with the top of the bottle. Noticing who was talking to him, Iho murmured unintelligible words. Then he returned to his former position, sealing once more the bottle with his brow.

"There's nothing to talk about, Uchiha," Iho slurred into the table. "How did you even—you know, it doesn't matter. Just go an' leave me alone. I won't tell anyone you've been here, promise."

"I said, we need to talk."

"Didn't you hear—"

"Look at me," Sasuke said.

Iho chuckled under his breath. "You must be deaf as well as—"

Sasuke swiped the stool with his foot. One leg broke off with an ugly creak and, spinning vertically, hit the fabric of the tent. Iho toppled sideways with the rest of the stool. Taking the Rakaji with him, he spilled all of it as he fell into a cluster of grapes on the floor.

Red blotches covered his cheeks. Whether they originated from anger, the light of the brazier, or the liquor Sasuke could not tell. The reason stopped to matter, since the color soon changed to a pallid white. Iho crawled backwards. "What do you—" His palm landed on an apple. He lost what remained of his balance, landing flat on his back.

"What—What do you want from me?" he asked, staring up at Sasuke.

"To talk," Sasuke said, content in looking at the prone body. There came a certain arrogance with being in a position of power. The thrill of being respected, even if through fear, would never leave him. _But that_ , he thought, _might as well be a universal rule for shinobi_. _Those denying it are deluding themselves_.

Because no matter how much you valued peace and friendship and all those important principles of cooperation touted in Konoha, there existed no shinobi who, once having dipped a toe into the pool of lust and thrill that came with power, could turn their backs completely to its allure. It was there, always waiting for the moment of resurgence, knowing that one drop of blood, one spark of fear in the eyes of another could revive it, elevating to prominence the bestiality you sought to deny in the first place.

No human was immune to that affliction.

The ability to control that thrill, then, separated the strong from the weak. Unrestrained anger led to mistakes. Unchecked pride to death. And if emotions had power over you, then was not the principle of dominance reversed? There existed no weaker shinobi than one ruled by his emotions.

"Talk? A—About what?" asked Iho.

Sasuke reigned in his facial expression and said, "You will not leave this country. You will give all you have, all you are, to convince these people"—Sasuke made a vague motion toward the outside of the tent—"that you are the right, the only choice. That listening to you is the only path left for them. And not just to them, but to all of this country."

"But I already tried…"

"You will try again, better."

Iho looked up, a frown building on his brow. "It won't work, Uchiha. You saw how they reacted."

"I did."

"Then why?"

"Because now," Sasuke said, "you will have an incentive to be more _motivated_."

Iho laughed, and for a moment Sasuke was taken aback. A mocking grin stretched Iho's lips, the fear seemingly gone all at once. "An incentive?" The laughter tapered off into light chuckling. "You will kill me if I don't comply? That's laughable. You know that as well as I do. Neither Danzō nor Kakashi would stand for that."

Sasuke matched the grin with an expression for which he drew up all his contempt. He unsheathed his sword, let it twirl around his wrist in a wild spin, then stabbed it into the ground beside Iho's face. "Do you know," he asked, crouching, "what is the most important to a shinobi?"

"Strength? More things to intimidate me with?"

"Purpose." Sasuke inched closer. He did not bother hiding the dangerous smile on his face. "To know that all the things you do, you do for a reason—that nothing, absolutely nothing, is irrelevant…"

"W—Where are you going with this?"

"Our purpose is to pacify this land," Sasuke said, Sharingan spinning into existence. "With that simple goal in mind we've bled. Sakura has been injured, Naruto tortured. And for two years now, we've been sitting in this heated wasteland you call a country. All of that with a single objective: establishing order so we can finally leave."

Black windmills spun in a field of red, but Sasuke used no illusion. The image alone was necessary. "You are important," Sasuke said. "But if I learn that your efforts are not in line with my goal, that what you do might take away my purpose, _our_ purpose…I _will_ kill you."

"Danzō—"

"Neither him nor Kakashi would stop me," Sasuke told him. "They have even less tolerance for uselessness than I do." He threw the crushed grape carelessly to the ground, leaning closer still. "So, listen to me, future Daimyo."

Seeing himself in Iho's trembling eyes, Sasuke smiled. "Find answers to the questions these people ask. Search for them with all your being and make sure that your value to us does not sink far enough for me to kill you. Do that, and you will survive. It's that simple." He waited for his words to sink in, then said, "And at the end of it all, we will be gone, you will rule, and your family will be avenged. I would've thought that, of all things, was motivation enough."

Having said all he intended to, Sasuke rose from his crouch and returned his sword to its sheath. He left the prince cowering on the floor amidst all the high-priced fruit of which the people of Akisam had so little. He walked away, ignoring the soiled pants of the man. Hope and fear, the siblings of life, would keep Iho company now. Fear of death to have him stay away from the thought of giving up, and hope for the future that might be should he comply.

"I heard you," she said.

"I thought as much."

He looked at her, taking in all of her face, from the lines of her lips to the small grove on her chin and the slight tightness of the skin around her eyes. He found no judgment in her expression but wondered if that was because he searched not hard enough, did not want to search any harder.

"Sensei won't kill him just because he's useless," she said. "That's some mighty bluffing you did."

Sasuke kept quiet, hoping that she would not talk about this evening anymore. Little of what he told Iho had been a bluff.

* * *

Shino moved past ten rows of temporary abodes, before he came to the small encampment of circular tents—seven in all—the Suna-nin had set up on the fringes of the larger Konoha fortification. Konoha-nin avoided this place, because they either had no business here, or a strong dislike for Suna still festered in their hearts.

Colony whirring inside him, agitated and ready in case physical action would be necessary, Shino belonged to the latter category as he stepped into the camp. Four Aburame had found their death during the invasion of Konoha—a small number compared to that of other clans if viewed through the lens of logic. Yet, even after so much time had passed, and knowing that the fresh Genin in this camp had nothing to do with the demise of his clansmen, separating the emotional from the logical proved difficult.

To abandon the plane of rationality, a shame for any Aburame, evoked no guilt in him. The cause valid, it liberated. And so he too shared in the dislike collectively directed against Suna's remnants. A nonsensical notion Shino allowed to live on as long as it did not interfere with concepts valued higher than his anger. The hierarchy of emotions structuring his inner perception tolerated nothing less.

Shino slowed his walk and, extending his finger, eyed the blue-purple beetle settling on the waiting limb. Skittering past a knuckle and moving over the back of Shino's hand, the beetle buzzed, and then, with a last effort of spread wings, vanished into the sleeve of his coat. Target located, Shino moved on, thinking that dwelling on his anger might have been more agreeable. But the day Hatake Kakashi took over half of Konoha's troops and left for the West, Naruto had asked for a favor. And now reliability, overthrowing enmity, had ascended to the position of principles which adherence to was paramount.

Instructions of the scouting beetle in mind, Shino went past the tents and towards a circular ring drawn in the sand, ten yards in each direction from the center. Genin, Suna's insignia gleaming in the sun on their dark-gray headbands, shuffled from position to position, juking left and right, trying to create an opening; then, finding weakness, hammering that one spot until the other surrendered.

Clothed in a red cloak, the soon-to-be Kazekage—though it had not as yet been announced—observed the Genin under his command, giving short but informative advice when mistakes necessitated corrections. Shino joined Gaara at the edge of the ring. The slapping noise of flesh hitting flesh ceased as the Genin noticed his presence. Gaara motioned for them to continue, and the groans of people getting hit returned. Then he walked away from the ring, Shino following, until they reached a distance that made overhearing them by conventional means impossible.

They stood beside each other in silence, horizon in their view, Shino feeling the crawling sensation near his liver he associated with growing anxiety. A light _tap-tap-tap_ as if a centipede marched from his navel up his chest. He sent a calming signal to his colony. This had been expected, he told himself. Information about what Gaara contained was available. He had prepared himself for this occasion.

Shino threw a glance at Gaara, secure in the knowledge that his shades hid the movement of his eyes. A Bijū…The host of a Bijū, Shino corrected himself. Gaara might be docile for now, but the awareness of his burden created nonetheless a measure of fear.

 _It is better to be direct_ , Shino thought. _He might detect subterfuge. I am not here to challenge the status quo, just to fulfill my promise to Naruto_.

Precise and clear he said, "Naruto asked me ascertain that your accommodations are sufficient. He requested Yamanaka Ino and Inuzuka Kiba to do the same."

 _He does not want you to feel excluded. Why?_

A question he would not get any answer to in the near future, Shino knew. At least not from Gaara, and receiving one from Naruto seemed equally difficult with the current distance between them.

To Shino's surprise, the lines on Gaara's face eased. He spoke, voice audible but arid like the country of his birth. "He is considerate of my situation—his whole team is." Turning to Shino, he said, "Thank you for fulfilling his request. If…Should this bother you, there is no need to check in on me again. The same applies to your friends. I do not wish for you to feel discomfited."

 _What is your connection to Naruto, to Team Seven?_

The wind picked up, fanning strands of Gaara's hair to the side. And Shino, seeing the Kanji for love, added another question to the mystery that was Gaara. The reply as well deviated from the predicted response, leaving Shino with the conclusion that his preconceptions were invalid and untenable.

"Is your situation acceptable?" Shino asked.

Surprise, however brief, flashed across Gaara's face. "Given the circumstances," he told Shino, "this is the best outcome Suna could have hoped for."

Because Suna remaining a sovereign village without any influence from Konoha was as unlikely a prospect as crossing the desert and not finding a single, poisonous insect. Left to Suna was, at this point, merely the possibility of becoming a protectorate. And, with the sparse amount of loyal Genin training in the ring constituting the whole of Suna's actual army, it would be a long time till the Village of Sand regained even a semblance of its former strength.

Konoha's dog or extinction: the two paths open to Suna.

Yet with the rebels still in play, and the northern border straining harder each day as Iwa, Kusa, and Oto pressed inland…

In the distance, the Genin left the ring. They began practicing their Jutsu, stirring up sand as wind exploded along the desert.

"Are you prepared should the rebels leave Shishi and attack?" asked Shino.

Gaara must have noticed a layer of meaning beneath the original question. He took his eyes off the Genin. Face blank, he said, "You do not trust me."

 _You are right_ , Shino thought, trying to leash the centipede that began crawling again _. I do not trust you. Why? Your village killed my clansmen. You host a Bijū. Konoha's army is split, and the situation at the border makes it unlikely we will receive further reinforcements. If you betray us now, Sabaku no Gaara, even with such a small amount of men, it would be devastating._

"Nothing you have done has inspired trust so far," Shino told him, careful not to let his voice waver. "I will reassess once Shishi belongs to us."

Gaara was quiet.

"Kiba and Ino will act according to their own judgment. It is unlikely, however, that I will return." Inclining his head, saying, "Have a good evening," Shino turned to leave, glad that, until he made it past the ring and back into the encampment, Gaara's voice did not follow him. And all the way up to his own tent, he wondered about the bond that Gaara shared with Naruto.

* * *

Naruto, having just taken care of the water supplies for the better part of the evening—unsealing the barrels, stacking them, structuring the guard around the perimeter—threw his vest to the floor. He kicked the sweaty garment into a corner, rubbed his eyes, and settled on the ground.

Sakura, returning from patrolling the outskirts of the area, raked a hand through her hair. "Done for tonight," she said. "Nothing suspicious anywhere. Not that I expected much to begin with."

"Better safe than sorry," Naruto said.

Sakura had the right of it though. They had yet to see a single, rebellious soul since splitting off of Danzō's army. By now the only difficulty proved to be surmounting the distances between the villages on their way west, hoping that Iho would get a grip sooner rather than later. A hope that, strangely enough, did not seem futile. So far the prince had not gone squealing to Kakashi, a miracle in itself after Sasuke brought the absolute best of his diplomatic abilities to the table. In the last village Iho even seemed more passionate than before. Still not good enough, but Naruto took any improvement over the earlier abysmal performance.

Letting sand run through his fist, Naruto kept his eyes on Sakura as she changed from one black pair of pants into an identical, fresh pair.

"How long do you think we still have to go?" Sakura said, wrestling out of her vest.

Naruto had noticed that before. Sakura always dressed and undressed herself from bottom to top and not the other way around like he himself did. During the summer months in Konoha he usually slept naked, and most of the time the first piece of clothing he put on went around his head. When the need for coffee became too strong while dressing, it had not been strange at all to see either of them just with socks or headband in the kitchen, one working the coffee grinder, the other boiling water and cleaning two cups. That, Naruto found, said a lot about their dependency on the coffee beans of Myabu city. Sasuke, of course, never left his room unclothed. He usually wore a morning Kimono of black silk with the Uchiwa stitched on the back.

"Naruto?"

"Mhh?"

"How long to Ike?"

"Right," he said, "sorry. We're halfway there. Five days if we're quick. A week tops."

"We could be a lot faster," she said.

Naruto leaned back with a sigh. "True enough. This slow pace is killing me."

"If only," Sasuke said, pushing past the fabric covering the entrance. His sheathed sword sailed past Naruto, bouncing off the cushion beside the barrel at the far end of the tent. With a crisp sound it landed in the straw covering the ground.

"Things could be worse," Sakura said. "We're slow, but that's just Sensei being cautious. So far there's been almost no injuries—"

"—aside from the idiots playing 'find the scorpion' blindfolded," Naruto said.

"Well, yeah, that was the dumbest story I've heard all week." Sakura grinned slyly at Sasuke. "Thank God I don't have to treat them."

Sasuke's brows drew into a glower. "Don't remind me." The scorpion games had been a fad during the first two months of the occupation but lost their prominence as more and more ways to pass time became available. Now that the army was moving, however, and brothels, the Hole, and alcohol were far away, the practice of catching scorpions and making them into entertainment resurfaced. To the detriment, of course, of the poor medics able to treat wounds of that nature.

"Anyway," Sakura said, "we've no crippled or injured. That's far better than Danzō can say of himself. I almost pity him—He's got all the trouble brewing on his side."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled to know that you care," Sasuke said. He moved over to an unsealed but closed duffle bag sitting beside Sakura. He pulled the zipper from one end to the other, then—under the scrutiny of Naruto's steadily rising eyebrows—contemplated the content of the bag before reaching in with his hand and rummaging inside.

 _You did not just do that, you crazy bastard,_ Naruto thought. _You have a death wish or something?_

"And what, pray tell, is it that you're looking for in my bag?" Sakura asked in that fear-inducing, sugary sweet way Naruto had long learned to stay away from.

Swallowed whole by Sakura's shadow, Sasuke spared her a glance but then continued his foraging unbothered though slightly faster. At last he pulled a flat rectangle out of the bag and moved, in a measured stroll, to the other end of the tent.

"Of course, take whatever you want. My stuff is your stuff."

"Stop your babbling, Sakura."

"Burn, Uchiha."

Stretching his hand toward Sakura, Naruto let her pull him into a standing position. Looking Sasuke over the shoulder, his breath caught, then left his mouth in an explosive laugh. Sasuke palmed a small mirror, staring into it as though he could break it through the force of his eyes alone.

"That's vain, man, even for you," Naruto said.

"Shut up."

"No, seriously," Sakura said. "Is there something you want to tell us?"

Sasuke grunted. "I'm timing the transitions."

"What…"

A red flash caught Naruto's attention. At a rapid pace, the eyes of Sasuke's reflection turned from black to red and back to black. So fast until the colors started mixing, only a reddish-black mess remaining.

"Not bad," Naruto said. He clenched his fist around his shirt as a strange heat surged through his body. "That's looking a lot better than a few weeks ago," he continued, dizzy. "You've been practicing with Hinata again?"

A last change from red to black, then Sasuke's eyes went back to their usual color. "She can see the pathways."

Relieved that the sudden heat left his body, Naruto nodded sagely. "Which means she's not bothering you…and which also means you're actually working together with someone not us. I'm proud, Sasuke. I really am."

"Naruto's right," Sakura said. "We'll get you integrated into society yet." After a small pause, "You should get her something to show that you're grateful. She's saving you a lot of trouble."

Sasuke slapped the mirror shut, chucked it into the bag, and shouldered his way past them. He said nothing more on the topic.

 _But he'll get her something_ , Naruto thought. _I'm certain he—_

The heat crashed down on him again. Like a searing balloon that expanded past his ribs, pushed against the confines of his chest, farther, farther, until all air seemed to leave at once, and the balloon sunk, now heavy, shredded, like a lump of hot iron down his stomach. He heard a voice—his own scream. Another voice, Sakura. He blinked, realized that everything had turned by ninety degrees. He was lying on his side, face in the sand, straw scratching at his cheek, heartbeat battering his eardrums. He blinked. Sasuke hovered above him. He was speaking. Then came Sakura, and slapped something against his forehead. Sasuke again. Green light. Then soothing coolness streaming like a river through his limbs, coalescing around his heart, now past and around the knot of heat, moving toward his navel.

Naruto gasped for air, a shuddering breath stopping time, before the feeling of control over his body returned.

"—Naruto," he heard Sasuke say.

"I'm fine," Naruto pressed out, trying to push himself to his elbows. "I'm—"

"If you say you're fine one more time, I'm going to slap you," Sakura said. "You're damn lucky that Jiraiya-sensei's seals worked."

"The attack still looked stronger than the last one," Sasuke said.

"It was," said Naruto, though he did not like to admit it. At least the seals worked. That was something good. He had not known if they would, and having confirmation made him feel safer already. _Thanks, old pervert_ , he thought, _I'll make sure to read your books for this once I get my hands on them._

"Do you want to tell Kakashi-sensei?"

"No," Naruto said. "The seals worked, and it's too risky. I don't want him to send me back. Besides, you mentioned this oasis in Ike. Once we're there I'm going to take a look. That might help some."

She nodded, though with a slight reluctance. Still, sensing that this particular discussion was over, Naruto reached for his backpack and pulled out a beaker and two dice from a side pocket. Anything to return some normalcy. "You two up for a game? It's been a while, but I'm sure you'll lose just as quickly as always."

Sasuke settled in a cross-legged position next to Naruto, staring at the dice. "Put your money where your—"

The roar of an explosion ripped through the night. In one shudder after another, the earth trembled. All three jumped to their feet, weapons ready. Naruto noticed Sakura's concerned gaze, but at that point he was already halfway out of the tent.

* * *

Parts of the camp to the north stood in flames. Team Seven rushed into the direction of the explosion, running through a sea of ash and confusion. Why had the guards not sounded the alarm? Naruto pushed past groups of Genin stumbling and crawling out of their tents. Noise saturated the air, but once he heard a scream a few clicks north, he sped up once more. Then came the sound of clashing metal. A tent collapsed beside him. At last Naruto arrived at the site where, hours ago, he had unsealed and stacked the camp's water. He ground to a halt the minute he saw who had caused the explosion.

Rōshi moved amidst a sea of splinters, red armor shimmering in the fire. Six shinobi had surrounded him, but he eviscerated them with contemptuous ease, using the first as a shield against all their coming attacks. Naruto's throat constricted for a split-second as memories of their last encounter flittered through his mind. Then Sasuke tapped his shoulder, and as though a spell broke, his mind cleared.

 _Not the time to freeze like an academy student, Uzumaki_ , he thought, setting off in a dash, right up until he was in front of Rōshi, Sasuke right behind him. A few paces to the left, invisible threads of Sakura's chakra hurtled past the two of them before exploding into multiple nets weaving themselves into illusions.

Throwing away the corpse of the last attacker, Rōshi turned, recognition flashing in his eyes just as much as the light from the fire did. Then Naruto was on him, letting fly. Peddling back immediately, he ducked under a kick and came up again, fist extended, scrapping for all his worth. Sasuke's sword split the air but bounced off Rōshi's red-glowing bracers. When Sakura opened a small hole under Rōshi's feet, he punched Naruto away. Before his foot met the hole, he closed it with cooled lava, not even bothering to use a hand seal.

Naruto staggered back from the punch, feeling the blood slosh around in his mouth. There was a thrum running through his head, and for a moment he had problems differentiating between the ground and the sky.

They had fought for all of half a minute, Rōshi's stare murdering him every second anew it seemed, when the man's head snapped to the direction Team Seven had come from. He snarled, and Naruto was just about to let fly again, when Sasuke grabbed his shoulder and leaped away with him.

"What—"

Before Sakura could finish her question, a cloak of brown chakra manifested around Rōshi; the earth split around him, and rivulets of lava welled out of the cracks. Sakura's eyes widened. Beside her, Naruto tensed, feeling the constriction in his throat return, as if someone held it in a vice grip.

 _No_ , he thought, eyelids trembling as he watched. _Please, not again. If I have to use the fox again so soon I will—_

But Rōshi, hateful eyes fixed on Naruto, bent his knees and, with a heavy push, jumped, soaring into the opposite direction and away from the camp. Naruto watched the chakra dissipate as Rōshi became smaller and smaller. ThenKakashi touched down behind Naruto. He eyed first Rōshi's escape path, then the destruction around him. Naruto's shame at not having sensed Kakashi coming evaporated when he noticed him take stock of the situation. All of their water had been destroyed.

"Sensei," Sakura said, "What do we do now?"

Kakashi looked at Naruto. "How much can you fill?"

"A few barrels. Not enough to get everyone through," Naruto said. Now that the malign chakra had left, shinobi began gathering nearby. They held their distance to Team Seven who stood in a pile of ash, wood, and glass. Now that Roshi had left, taking with him the noise of battle, the cries of the wounded reached Naruto again. He looked around, seeing shinobi pull their comrades out of ashheaps.

Kakashi was silent for a minute, regarding the destroyed part of the camp. Then he turned to the crowd at large. "Ike," he said. "Triple speed, no stops. If we're fast enough, we can make it before the thirst gets us." His expression sharpened. "Seal if you can. If not, take only what you need to survive. No ballast. Spread the order—We move in thirty minutes."

To Team Seven he said, "Sakura, go seal your tent. Sasuke, the wounded need help. Naruto, you stay with me. I need you to fill every container we can find. Move."

* * *

 **AN:** That's it for today, folks. Hope you enjoyed it.


	17. Scattered III

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

 **AN:** Here we go. Every domino has been put into the right position at last. After this chapter there are three more, and I think even the most depraved of you will find themselves satisfied afterwards.

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Scattered III**

* * *

" _I am the shadow, the smoke in your eyes. I am the ghost of the night."_

* * *

Two miles of barren land lay between Sasuke and Ike. The imperial road up to the city looked like liquefied metal and under the harsh sun the walls shone a blinding white, towers topped off by turquois-shingled domes. Ike's symbol, a white palm leaf on a blue circle, shivered on the large banners unfurled to either side of the gate.

In a minute the signal to attack would sound. Under the cover of illusions they would storm the walls, leap into the city—to meet what? The question came with no answer. Earlier Kakashi had taken Hinata to inspect the defensive structures, and her eyes had spotted life, a lot of it, gathering in every house. Just that none of those signatures matched even that of an academy student. The imbecilic—and there existed a lot of those—would be hard pressed to overlook such a glaring sign.

Yet Konoha would spring the trap regardless, because the desert left them no other option. Hundreds of unwashed soldiers left a smell behind that invited dizziness and pressed morale to an all-time low. A few shinobi had wandered off into the desert, where, an hour after their friends reported them missing, they were found, all limbs stretched from them, mumbling, their lips crusted with sand as they talked to the ground. Naruto, who worked hard to procure water, could not do the impossible in a desert after all. Eventually the lack of water invited imitation. Most often those selfless but stupid shinobi became another burden once the chakra demand caught up to them.

 _No_ , Sasuke thought, _we can't afford to play safe anymore_. Yesterday the first group of decrepit old veterans, suffering from dehydration and crippling heat, fell mid-leap into the sand. Not taking the city now meant death just as well, and knowing this Kakashi had given the order to attack, reluctantly, and only to half of the army. The rest of the troops, Kakashi included, would set up camp and secure their backs in case an ambushing force tried to hammer them from behind.

"You will stay here with me," had been Kakashi's words two hours ago. "That's an order."

"We're the best you have," Sakura replied. "If this is a trap, _we_ have the best chance to survive it. They need someone to lead them in there."

The argument went on, for quite a while in fact, until Sakura had asked Kakashi point blank if he trusted them. A technique Sasuke recognized with an alien sort of amusement. Just that she had no idea how strange that sentence would sound to her in three hours. But then, neither of them did. Kakashi let them go afterward, presenting them with heartfelt words as a parting gift: return, or the next training will kill you for real.

Now they stood on this dune, each a headband tied to their biceps. Commanders lacking the time to publicize a new hierarchy used this common practice to denote leadership. In peacetimes no one cared where your headband resided. During a war, however, impersonating a leading official, even by accident or habit as the case may be, came with quite the punishment attached.

Beside him, Naruto shaded his eyes. "Can you check again, Hinata?"

Once more she spied nothing but civilians. The prickling in Sasuke's gut worsened. Soon they would scale those walls, and from there fan out into the city until meeting again at the city plaza. The sensation of responsibility felt strange to him. When he glanced back, a group of ten waited for his command. All around him the same scene took place. One leader, ten shinobi behind him.

He would not admit it to anyone, but a shudder ran through him when a sharp high-pitched whistle reached over from the camp, igniting an army with that sound alone. He felt apprehension at the same time as excitement and the feeling persisted as he fell into a light jog, ten shinobi behind him doing the same, while web after web of illusions stretched across the field ahead. To his right he saw Naruto, followed by an equal number.

The Genjutsu would not hide them, but the illusions should have enough strength for them to appear displaced at least.

Thirty seconds into the jog he sped up. Sakura had finished with the illusion corps and caught up to them, surrounded by her own band of Chūnin and Genin. Half a minute later, one minute in total, they reached the walls. The air vibrated with the buzz of chakra as hundreds of soles found purchase on the stone.

He kept eying the ballista on the tower to his far left, but there too he saw no one willing to defend the city. Likewise, no boiling oil rained from atop, and thus the flame to ignite said oil would have been redundant had it been spat at them. It was not. Sasuke reached the top, vaulted over the battlements, and found himself on the empty and narrow walk of the wall. Another moment of a possible defense left discarded.

Naruto and Sakura came shooting over the battlement, landing beside him. Before them stretched Ike, a city like an infinite chessboard, each roofs in alternation a glaring white or turquoise. At the western end of the city lay the oasis, the water glittering in the sun, as if a million shining eyes stared back at him from under the surface. He disliked those eyes intensely and looked away.

"Let's go," Sakura said, casting furtive looks in every direction. Together they leaped from the wall onto a three-storey house in reach, vanishing into the city, thirty souls following suit. They ran side by side. The doors were locked, here and there wooden planks blocking an entrance otherwise covered by cloth. Sasuke heard behind him pounding footfall, barked commands, panting.

The city, for all its silence, could not hold its breath forever. Eventually sound made it through the willful suppression of noise. The bark of a dog could not be contained, the hungry wail of a child scarcely ignored. All leaped into focus. The city suddenly was awash in shouts, even from the farther streets, the swelling noise of a people afraid and failing wholly to keep silent. Had it been like this before? Had the tension made him deaf?

More groups split off. They were to move through different alleys. This is a trap, Sasuke reminded himself, checking himself for a Genjutsu. He had yet to meet an enemy, but they would come out of their holes eventually, and by then he would have his sword ready to dispose of them, quick and efficiently, but also with a certain relish. The rebels had brought despair to one akin to kin, it felt right to return the favor.

But before metal slid through flesh he would first have to identify the danger. After rounding another corner a sign of life beside the noise showed itself behind a window which had not shutters but a fluttering piece of fabric instead. The face peeking out noticed his attention and the man peddled back—a civilian.

The occurrence began repeating itself as they penetrated deeper into the city. People caught glances at them, driven by curiosity, but still afraid. Reports from other groups filtered in: The alleys were empty as well. The houses not so much.

 _It must be an ambush_ , Sasuke thought _. How could it be anything else?_

Nearing the plaza he found neither traps nor any other opposition however. What, then, was the point of delivering to them a fortified city like Ike, but defending Shishi in desperation to stave off total annihilation? It made no sense to him, and he disliked this kind of unpredictable behavior.

Sasuke heard a sudden thump to his left. Finally. Now he could react in an appropriate fashion.

Drawing his blade he spun around, stopping his motion dumbfounded at the sight of Naruto's body prone on the street, face pressed onto the cobblestones. The blond bucked, a scream clawing itself out of his throat. Sasuke stiffened, feeling anxiety of a different kind take hold of him.

The shinobi behind them fell into defensive postures, seeking what little cover the alley offered them. They readied their weapons, looking about for the threat that assailed them and had downed one of their captains already.

"Calm them," Sasuke pressed out to Sakura, pulling out the sealing tags. He moved past her to kneel by Naruto, while she gathered up all thirty shinobi, addressing them in a steely voice some distance away.

Sasuke's hands lit up in a green while the seals went to work. He pushed his chakra into Naruto. It was soothing; Naruto had told him that himself. It would help. It had helped before, after all. But Naruto ceased neither bucking nor screaming. He had turned on his back now, his face a grimace of pain as he writhed on the ground. His eyes were shooting around in their sockets, never focusing on anything for long. Sasuke slapped another seal on Naruto's skin. He watched it glow blue, then red, before it began reeling off tendrils of black smoke around the edges.

More chakra might help. It did not. A shadow fell over him, and looking up Sasuke found Hinata, Byakugan active. "What is happening to him?" she said. "His chakra is r—"

Sasuke grunted harshly. "Don't. Fifth meridian. He needs more."

Hinata followed his order without question and they went to work alongside another round of seals, infusing in tandem their chakra to support Naruto. With relief Sasuke noticed that the treatment worked, stopping the screaming and muscle spasms. Feverish, Naruto went in and out of consciousness, however, no matter how much chakra they poured down his system.

Sakura joined them, and Sasuke said, "Somewhat stable," before she could even ask a question. "It's not like usual." Glancing back he found their shinobi standing gathered some distance away, talking quietly among themselves.

"The temple," Sakura said. "It isn't far."

"No guarantee, though."

"It's a chance."

"We have command right now," Sasuke said.

Hinata entered into the conversation with a quality of demand to her voice. "What is happening to him?"

Both heads snapped around to her. Sasuke did not need to talk with Sakura to know that she thought the same. "I'll talk to them," he said, "You do the rest." Then he walked over to the shinobi whose attention settled on him without prompting.

"Listen," he said.

"What is happening?" one asked.

He silenced her with a glare, then spoke to all of them: "Parameters changed. You will follow Hyūga Hinata's command until we return."

"But—"

"She is capable and experienced. Her Byakugan will lead you to the plaza safely." The overt acknowledgement of anyone but his team passed his lips, and strangely disaffected he wondered about himself while he was talking. It brought him no trouble to say these words. None of them would prove lies. She resembled little of the weak girl he remembered from the academy.

"Understood?" he said.

They straightened up, grim-faced looking at their new commander who still knelt next to Naruto. The rigidity of their posture satisfied Sasuke. He could not yet identify the emotion he felt at seeing thirty men and women snap to attention, but it rather pleased him.

Having issued the orders, he returned to the small group around Naruto.

"Please," said Sakura, "I know you can do it."

"What about you? Where—"

"The temple," Sasuke said, crouching beside them. Sweat glued Naruto's hair to his forehead in thick strands.

"What is there?"

"That's all we can tell you," said Sakura.

"But—"

"Please," Sakura said, "we will help him, I promise."

Those words convinced her at last, it seemed. Not looking away once from Naruto, she untied her headband and fastened it around her arm.

"We owe you," Sakura said, as she heaved Naruto onto her shoulders. "We really do."

"Help him," Hinata said.

Sasuke laid a hand on her shoulder. "We will." Then, noticing what he just did, he retracted his hand quickly and turned, throwing another look at the shinobi. They all waited for Hinata to issue orders.

As they began to move away, he resolved himself that yes, he would get this woman a present. Uchiha did not leave debts unsettled.

* * *

Sakura darted along the wide bridge leading to the Temple of Ike, Naruto weighing on her back, his unsteady breath echoing in her ear. She ran past the massive pillars lining the bridge, all topped with braziers and blazing flames; ran past the unmoving palm trees as the wind lay still as a corpse. On her shoulder, Naruto moved in and out of consciousness. This place would help him though. It had to.

They arrived at the other end of the bridge and climbed a flight of stairs up to the entrance of the tall, triangular shaped temple. No door obstructing them she entered, and Sakura felt the atmosphere change as Naruto grew warmer. They were in the temple, but where to now? The place split into an entry area, marbled and illuminated by torchlight, with two statues staring at each other; and, farther in, where the two walls narrowed until they joined together into one corner, was a tiny sand-fringed island. A narrow shaft of sunlight streamed through a hole in the roof and onto the middle of the island, letting dust motes dance around.

"Doesn't get much more tranquil than that," Sakura said, shifting Naruto to the left side of her back.

"Hn."

They were about to go on, when a door a few yards to Sasuke's left opened, crashing against the wall. A man—a priest—with a clean tunic, shorn hair, and a braided white beard strode up to them. He came from a corridor to the side, bringing with him, as he neared, the smell of musky incense and religion.

"Shinobi!" he thundered. "You have no right to be here."

"We need to get him on that island, please," Sakura said.

"This is a holy—"

Sasuke bridged the distance in a flash, pointing his sword at the old man's eyes.

"Quick," Sakura said, "but don't kill him."

The priest stood tall and rigid as an oak, unyielding. "Odaya will—"

Sasuke reversed the grip of his sword, struck the priest a blow to the head, and the man slumped down in a flurry of white robes. Passing the priest, they hurried toward the island, their sandals slapping the floor. By now Naruto had grown so hot, a constant thrum of pain spread over Sakura's back as she moved. The heat hurt most where parts of her vest had holes. There it sizzled and seared her skin.

"We almost made it," she whispered back as they walked over to the island. "Hang in there."

There was no disturbance in the water, not even from their own steps on top of it. Where the ray shone on the island, Sakura lowered Naruto to the ground, directly next to a pair of fern and a red boulder.

Sasuke crouched beside them. "What now?"

"I don't know," Sakura said, leaning over Naruto. She tried swiping his sweaty hair off his face, but her hand twitched back as a zap traveled through her fingers. This place was doing something to him. What though? And would it really help? In the city she had seen no other way—two medics tried to heal Naruto, and though it got better, it didn't suffice. This _had_ to work.

"Naruto, can you hear me?" she asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "I need you to look at me if you can."

Wild and unfocused, his eyes fixed first on the ceiling, then the rough-hewn murals at the walls, before settling on her. Sakura whispered he could do it whenever they flickered someplace else.

Naruto's lips twitched into a strained smile. "I…hear you," he said. Then he groaned, twisting on the ground. "It's hot, Sakura. So…damn hot."

"It'll go away, believe me," she said. "It will, I know it. Just…"

Just what? Lie there and wait for a miracle to happen? Her thoughts on how Naruto would tame the Kyuubi had never progressed beyond visiting the temple. The Jinchūriki who first used this place as a refuge probably had not had to deal with being in the middle of a siege and an immediate attack by his Bijū either.

Sakura searched for a solution. There had to be something she could do to help. _I can't give up_ , she thought. _Not when it's him lying there. He will not…I won't—_

Sasuke took her by the shoulders, pushing her to the side. Sakura dug in her heels. She would not leave his side now. Then Sasuke pushed harder, and the words of protest caught in her throat at the sight of his face.

"Make sure to break us up when something happens," he said, sanguine eyes focused on Naruto. The tomoe began spinning, faster, faster, until they rotated at such speed that Sakura saw nothing bar black circles. Then they stopped abruptly, as if the wheels of the mills got jammed mid-spin.

"Sasuke?" she said, but not a single muscle on Sasuke's body twitched.

* * *

Ankle-deep in water that smelled like the sewage system beneath Konoha, Sasuke found himself walking through a narrow, badly lit corridor. Pipes in all sizes, hundreds of them, went along the walls; around them, chains: some drawn taut and locked, others barely holding together. From somewhere the pattering sound of water carried to his ears, and just like the smell and the looks, he did not like it.

Sasuke quickened his pace under the flickering light, rounding corners, following the only path forward. A sense of wrongness pervaded his body since he first arrived in this place, and it grew by the second. He did not belong here, and he doubted he'd be able to stay for much longer.

 _Not that I want to be here_ , he amended, ducking under loose, rusted chains hanging low from the ceiling like lianas. His troubles with the Sharingan were a constant reminder of the Kyuubi, and he had planned to keep as far away from the fox as possible. Having the corroding chakra circulate through his body when he used his heritage was already more than enough.

But circumstances had forced his hand today, and now he was here.

 _And I better find you soon, you idiot_ , Sasuke thought, feeling the wrongness of the place grapple with his drive to remain. _Because I don't think I'll manage to stay here much longer_. Why did they always have to run against the clock?

The lights brightened soon after, stopping their flickering, and half a minute later he stood in the largest hall he had ever seen. He stared. The creature locked behind the gate was massive, and for a second Sasuke had trouble comprehending what he saw. He felt like a blade of grass comparing itself to a hundred-year old oak, and still found the comparison lacking to describe the difference in size. Each breath of the fox sent not ripples but waves through the water that now went beyond Sasuke's ankles, lapping at his pants just below the knee.

It took sheer will to snap out of his dazed state and rip his gaze away from the Kyuubi's monstrous frame. He directed his attention towards Naruto, who hovered in the air before the cage, submerged in a cloak of red. Around him, the air seemed to bend as the waves on the water below whipped in every direction.

He had to get him out. Fast at that, because the headache that had been building since he entered this place became worse as time passed. He felt it pulse behind his eyes, drawing from there back through the entirety of his skull. When Sasuke waded deeper into the hall, the Kyuubi at last took notice of him. A grueling laugh rattled the place, leaving residue of vibration in Sasuke's bones. He held his head with one hand and moved farther in.

"Uchiha," the Kyuubi said, a row of tower-sized teeth flashing between dark fur. "I remember you well."

Sasuke moved on without responding, waves breaking against his body as he forged his way to Naruto.

"It was quite the experience that last led us together," the Kyuubi said. "Do you not think so, Uchiha Sasuke? Your eyes, which you cherish so very much…Tell me, Uchiha, do they hurt? Do you require my assistance again?" The laughter that followed sent gales of warm air blasting against Sasuke's body. "The pathetic look my feeble jailor wore when we last met entertained me for quite a while. He _begged_ me to save you."

Sasuke stared up at red eyes the size of two moons, letting his Sharingan spin into existence. "My eyes are just fine." Then he looked at Naruto, who still hovered in the cloud. "He'll be fine too."

"Tell me then, Uchiha, how will you save him when you can barely stay yourself?" A laugh. "Or do you think it will go well if you simply reach for him? He is fighting me, I give him that. Just not very well."

Sasuke looked at the red cloud of miasmic chakra. Naruto didn't look like he was fighting in that thing. But Sasuke really hoped he was, because coming into contact with this chakra again was out of question. Then, resonating from the walls, he heard Sakura's faint voice, telling Naruto to hang in. Naruto responded, eyes fluttering as he tried to claw his way out of the cloud, mouth ripped open, a soundless scream escaping.

The fox just grinned, and soon Naruto stopped moving again, all strength leaving him anew.

"You see? It has been like this for a while now." Lowering itself so that both eyes stared directly at the levitating blond, the Kyuubi said, "I could never tire of seeing this struggle. It is far beyond all I had hoped." Then, turning its attention back to Sasuke, "Now what will it be, Uchiha? Reach in, I urge you. Your eyes will thank you once more for it."

The rushing noise of waves around his knees grew in volume until it was all Sasuke heard. He stared at Naruto, searched for another solution and found none. He wished the Kyuubi was bluffing, but the last time he had met this chakra, his eyes ended up on the sacrificial altar.

No one would be able to repair them a second time. No medical technique would help him then, and—

"Your time runs out," the Kyuubi said, "and his will with it."

Sasuke craned his neck and looked up at the fox, feeling himself dematerialize from his legs upward. And when he saw the satisfied, smug expression of the Kyuubi, he knew his decision had been made long before he even entered the hall.

Sasuke reached out with his hand and moved through the thick cloud which stuck to Naruto's skin like pus. At the edge of his vision, he noticed the Kyuubi's eyes widen.

 _Get a good look, Kyuubi_ , Sasuke thought. _Uchiha do not bow, least of all to a beast like you_.

As he reached for Naruto's shoulder, his torso went up in blue chakra particles, and the grin morphed into a grimace. Ignoring the pain rushing through his body, Sasuke pulled Naruto out of the red haze, throwing him into the water below. Then the rest of his body dematerialized as well.

A second later, Sasuke found himself back on the island in the temple, crouching beside Sakura. Turning to her he tried to say, "He'll do the rest," but lacked the strength and settled on a nod instead, before the world turned black.

* * *

 _Ba-dum, ba-dum;_ following the beat of his heart, breaking past the fuzziness, Naruto snapped open his eyes. He closed them again fast, a headache lancing from ear to ear. The second time, opening them slowly, he fought past the headache and the wooziness.

 _This feels nice though_ , he thought despite the hurt, as a form of calm suffused his body from head to toe. The rage had been painful, but now it rested, deep under a layer of something he could not describe but found comforting, a layer he wished to burrow himself into even further.

When his perception returned, the damp warmth of a monstrous breath blowing on his face and through his hair, he did not want to look up. He knew what he would find there.

 _The peace_ , he thought, _I want more of it._ _I want it to last forever._ _Yes, forever sounds good_ …

But it could never be that way while the Kyuubi still existed.

Floating on his back in a pool of water, Naruto angled his head and looked up. "Kyuubi," he said, though with much less venom than the last time they met in person. He tried to conjure the anger and desperation that had made his words poison back then, but found that, like grasping an eel, the fury came and went in a blink, uncontrollable by him, no matter how much he tried to bring it forth. It flickered, died, was reborn, and fell to ashes in the time it took him to breath once, maybe twice.

"Jailor," the Kyuubi answered in a low rumble. "I did not expect to talk to you today. The Uchiha…Well, he should have paid for what he did by now. As will you."

The anger kept away, but fear rose—not as strongly as it should, but enough to make it through the state of tranquility in a piercing flash. "Sasuke was here?" Naruto looked around himself, but he was all alone with the fox. "What did you do to him?"

The Kyuubi laughed. "It is not so much what I did to him, as what I did to _you_. How he tried to save what remains of your life was amusing and far too short a spectacle. But observing the ruins of your friendship afterward will be rather pleasing, I assume. If you survive that is."

Despite himself, Naruto's lips twisted into a smile. "You keep saying things that make no sense"—he climbed to his feet—"but the way you talk tells me plenty." He cracked his neck, the unnatural calm coursing through his body. "If what you say is true though, then Sasuke is alive. That's all our friendship needs. There's never been anything else."

"Not even his eyes?"

Naruto tilted his head. "He learned to heal them once, he'll do it again. You really don't know Sasuke if you think that's all it takes to keep him down."

"I would not be so sure of that, Uzumaki Naruto. Do not forget: last time I healed him. And I did it well, though not without leaving a present, of course. Here, however, he was unwelcome, a foreign presence to all that is your body—"

"Like you are?"

"I am more a part of you than you would believe," the Kyuubi whispered in a sickly tone just loud enough for Naruto to hear. "How long do you think a foreign presence can endure to be cloaked in my chakra? How long until the flesh peels off, the cells corrode, the marrow curdles and the nerves fray? Until nothing more than a deformed husk is left? Your precious Uchiha was fast when he pulled you out, but not nearly fast enough to save his eyes a second time—I guarantee you that much."

 _That is worrisome_ , Naruto thought, detached, knowing his exact position and still feeling as though he were floating above the water, which had entered a state of calm where no waves, not a tiny ripple appeared, even as the Kyuubi moved.

"You are lying to me, like you've always done so far," Naruto said, feeling more clarity than ever before at this distant and remote yet utterly close position. "If Sasuke was here, then he came through his eyes. And how could you hurt him if there was no transfer of chakra? In the forest I pushed; I pushed so much you nearly suffocated him with chakra. But I'm not pushing now, Kyuubi, and neither is he."

The Kyuubi grinned. "You seem so very, very sure of that."

"Why shouldn't I? Once I wake, all I'll see will be Sasuke and Sakura. Nothing more, certainly nothing less."

"Oh?" There was a shift in the atmosphere, and Naruto glanced between the mountains of fur that moved as the Kyuubi's muscles shifted, the beast growing out of its slouch and into full size. "And how do you plan to wake up?" it asked, teeth bared. "I do not know where you found this kind of place, but can you not feel it? Can you not _see_ it?"

And indeed, when Naruto panned his gaze around the hall, all he saw were broken pipes, feeding more and more into the red-tinged water with a swoosh here, a trickle there. The seal, drawn taut at the corners by the symbols of an ape, a snail, a dog, and a toad cycling into one another around the main matrix, rested unbroken by the rage of the natural disaster it contained. The bars around it didn't. They creaked and bent, a grating sound reverberating through the hall as though an invisible force threw itself against them, again and again, and without pause.

"I will kill myself before _this_ happens, Kyuubi."

"You are welcome to try."

And with a roar the pressure in the room crushed down on Naruto, an invisible fist pushing him through the water and onto the ground below. He buckled under the strain, struggled back to the surface. A sound as if someone ripped metal apart chipped at his eardrums. A piece of a rusted, broken pipe spun past him, embedding itself in the wall behind. Another followed, and through the gaps they left, more red water streamed in, saturated with malice.

Naruto slammed his palms together and gritted his teeth as the situation forced his calm more and more into the back of his consciousness. The water bent into a cocoon around him as the waves crashed against a dome of blue chakra. Small in comparison, but enough not to drown in his own mind.

 _More_ , he thought. _More!_

He pressed his chakra into the dome, expanding it. The minute it grew, the red waves forced it back, shrunk it, and the Kyuubi's roar seemed never-ending as the element Naruto loved most drove his protection back to him. He clasped his hands tighter, so much his arms began shaking, but the first beads of red dripped through the unraveling dome. Then came the second and more, until sanguine rivulets ran up to his sandals.

A final push eradicated the blue cocoon, and Naruto found, wherever he looked, just seething, bubbling red. It began to engulf him, and the futility of his attempt to stop the Kyuubi was made so apparent, he wondered why he had tried in the first place. He smiled sadly, hearing the fragments of an old voice:

 _The Will of Fire…do you now know what it means, Naruto-kun?_

Ripped away from reality, and yet not quite swimming in the surreal, he murmured, "I thought I knew, but I lost all my answers."

 _...It is the reflection of our perseverance. The duty to endure. But also the knowledge that where a glimmer exists, fire will break out eventually, all-consuming yet feeding life just the same._

The tendrils of red reached past his throat now. The glimmer was there, it had to be. But there was no fan to strengthen it, no breath to let it spark. And so Naruto closed his eyes, accepting—a boy was no match for a Bijū, after all—until he saw the _Uchiwa_ swing from top to bottom, felt the breath on his face as Sakura told him to hang in there, they would be near the island soon.

A random thought flickered through his mind— _In Konoha we make fires of our own._

Then his eyes snapped open, and he pushed—the last effort, the very last. _I'm tired_ , he thought, but shouted at the storm of towering rage across, "Whatever way I die, Kyuubi, I won't surrender! Not to you."

The Kyuubi pushed back, but a thrum of power surged through Naruto, not his own but one he had felt all along since waking up in this place. A hand steadied him as he fell backward, and then the blue dome returned, first a small ball extending from his chest, but soon spreading with a force that seemed unreal, against which the red was helpless as it got pushed back into the cage. There was a feminine laugh of chiming bells, and a woman's voice saying _baby-boy_ , and more laughter as a soft touch stroked first his cheek and then his hair.

Naruto twitched as the energy behind him shot through his stomach, forming into something new in front of him, blinding light driving tears into his eyes. Fluttering white fabric; a line of red symbols.

 _Jiji?_

"You! I will—"

"You will nothing."

The voice was far too young to belong to the Sandaime. Naruto wiped the tears away, and when he looked, he saw the back of a crown of spiked blond hair like his own.

 _But then—_

The Kyuubi snarled and lunged forward, but the instant it did the blond man tapped his foot and all the broken bars rebuilt themselves. Three hand-seals later the roar vanished, as did the creaking of the bars, the buzzing of the flickering lights, and all the red water. Naruto felt as if a hand had grabbed him from another world and brought him into this one, where all was serene and calm again.

Then the man turned around and Naruto looked at a sight so similar to what the mirror reflected back at him each day. In that moment, every question he had asked himself in his childhood was answered, and he felt a strange nothingness inside him at the realization of who this man was, as if he were unable to interpret it in any emotional way.

"Noisy fella, don't you think?" the man said, walking up to him.

"Yondaime…"

The Fourth frowned and eased out a sigh. "I guess you would call me that…though it's certainly not what I want to be called by you. There's a lot that we have to—"

 _Creak._

The Fourth whirled around as the backdrop of noise returned. There was something sharp in his voice now, chilled. "This should not happen," he said, nearing the cage, Naruto trailing behind. "I created the seal so I could rebuild it at a moment's notice." Then he took in in the undamaged seal. "How…I should not even be here if the seal isn't broken." The Fourth turned back to Naruto. "What happened to you?"

"You won't have time to listen, Yondaime Hokage."

Streaming through the now again opening holes in the cage, red clouds bubbled forth, forming a misty, four-legged creature. First one tail swished behind its back, but as it then siphoned the energy pouring out from behind the breaking bars, more tails followed. Still in the cage, the massive version of the fox laughed. "This is a conquest you will not be able to reverse."

"I don't understand why the seal doesn't stop him," Naruto heard the Fourth mutter. Then the Fourth glanced at him. "I will need your help to repair this. Make some space and give me a minute without distraction."

In front of them, now four-tailed already, the miniature Kyuubi tensed.

"Got it," Naruto said. Then he set off, rushing past the man he did not quite want to call his father yet. Ground fissuring under its claws, the Kyuubi leaped. A sonic boom resounded as it threw himself toward the Fourth, hitting on Naruto right before reaching the man. Pain shot up Naruto's shoulder. The chakra seared his flesh, and both fell down in a heap, the Kyuubi moving for another attack already before hitting the floor.

Naruto pushed himself into an upward kick that sent the fox skidding away from the Fourth, who still knelt on the floor, entirely absorbed by his work as he scribbled with blood on the ground.

Holding two fingers to his lips, Naruto barraged the path up to the Fourth with water bullets, their impacts leaving small craters in their wake. None of them hit the fox though, as the fifth tail rose, and the Kyuubi began speeding with inhumane agility through the bullet trajectories.

On instinct rather than any notion of how the fox would attack, Naruto jumped in front of the Fourth, lashing out blindly. A reddish-black claw struck his face, but before he was sent crashing into the wall, Naruto gripped the claw, pulling the fox with its own momentum away from Minato.

As he extracted himself from the hole in the wall, a thundering noise in his head, he saw the Kyuubi now focused on him, and ducked away from a swipe that left deep trenches in the metal work, forming quick hand seals.

He tried to move out of range, but when another claw threw him aside, the world curved. He felt something in his back break as he landed hard. Letting out a guttural roar, the miniature Kyuubi rose on its hind-legs, before a beam of violet light tore from its maw.

Naruto substituted with a water clone that had risen a moment earlier in a puddle his earlier technique had left. The clone let out a scream that stopped abruptly as the beam evaporated him.

The Kyuubi, six-tailed and a white carapace of bone forming around his legs, flickered out of existence. Naruto blinked. His eyes widened when he felt the hissing breath beside his face. He lashed out with his right, pushing the Kyuubi's face away.

He thought, Have I made it a minute? Then six tails bore down on his stomach.

There was a flicker, the sound of tearing clothes, then the slick noise of something sharp sliding through flesh. The Fourth knelt bowed over Naruto, the tips of two tails peeking through his chest. Warm blood dripped on Naruto's face, one bead at a time.

The Fourth lifted a shaking arm, fingers twitching into a sign. " _Fūin: Kai_." A swell of blood splattered over Naruto's cheek as the man spoke.

Behind them, the massive Kyuubi roared as blood-threaded ropes of ink dragged the small one back into the cage, leaving gauges in the ground where it tried to anchor itself with its claws. Then, just like in the beginning, Naruto heard nothing. The bars closed themselves again, a tiny piece of paper fastened around each.

"What—"

"I didn't have the time to fix it all." The Fourth coughed up more blood as he spoke. "It'll—hold, barely. Try not to use him, okay, Naruto?"

"Is there—"

"Please," the Fourth wheezed out, "I don't…I don't have much time left."

Naruto had an idea of what the man would say next, and though a part of him longed to hear it, he turned his head slightly. Then there was a sudden pressure behind his head, turning it around. The Fourth had raised his hand, pressing Naruto's head against his so their foreheads were touching and they looked eye to eye.

"Listen, Naruto," the Fourth said, "I—I have no right, but I love you…always. For us…for us, you were the greatest gift." Against Naruto's body, the Fourth's chest expanded, as if the man was gathering his last strength, taking in the final breath. "You make us the proudest parents in the world, son."

Then Naruto felt the body above him slump together, weighing now on him and pressing him to the floor.

He stared at the flickering lights on the ceiling, tears pooling in his eyes. Then he glanced to the side, saw the face of the Fourth, lips pulled into a smile, and he felt the tears slip down his cheek, knowing that it was his father lying there, having found death a second time.

* * *

Hinata rounded the last corner toward the main plaza of Ike, having encountered no more trouble after Team Seven left with Naruto. Civilians looked at them more openly now, showing their faces in the windows—though none spoke with them—and Hinata thought that might be because they noticed that Konoha meant them no harm. If it stayed that way would show itself once the other group leaders and their men arrived.

They were the first at the plaza which, marble-tiled and lined with colored stones, glinted in the harsh sunlight that today seemed hotter than in weeks. A flat slab of stone, tall as two grown men and inscribed with words she could not read, stood in the center. The smell of coriander, cumin and coffee still lingered faintly, perhaps the result of a market held before Konoha came. There were no stalls now though, and like the rest of the city the plaza was devoid of life.

"We're first," said a Genin to another behind her, surprised. "Would've thought the others got here faster."

A girl, maybe a year older than Hanabi, asked her, "How do we proceed, Hinata-san?"

Hinata smiled at her, while thinking about the situation. Since Team Seven had left them, she had asked herself many questions, feared and obsessed and worried, and found no answers. She did not know what had happened to Naruto, how he was, or even if he would be fine. Sakura had been so cryptic before they left, and no matter how often Hinata tried to connect the dots, she arrived at no conclusion.

Then the Genin had started asking questions, just like now, seeking orders and wanting her to lead; and it was an experience that terrified her just as much as it exhilarated her. At first she thought she might not make it, fail her first attempt at command. But then she remembered that Sakura and Sasuke trusted her, that Naruto had known nothing about leading either when he marched them through the Forest of Death. He had done his best then, and she would do her best now, like always guided by the light he shone on the world without even knowing. It saddened her though, that the war had dimmed his light, however slightly, for she had not thought it possible at all.

But planning for the group gave her little time to think about Naruto, and when cruel thoughts about him broke through regardless, she believed. Believed that Naruto would find a way as he had always done before, and that his teammates would bring him back alive, and better, so he could see that she had done well in leading all these people, that she was worth being his friend, had changed since their days in Konoha.

She raised her voice, addressing the Genin: "The others are still five minutes away. They have encountered a civilian resistance and are trying to disperse the crowd without violence. We will have to secure the perimeter until they're here," she said, Byakugan activated and spotting the nearest band of Konoha-nin a few streets toward East, standing across a large group of young men. "Form groups of three and search the surrounding buildings; we need a better overview." Turning to the two Genin closest to her, "You two come with me."

Then she walked toward the nearest building, a white-washed house three storeys tall. The two Genin followed while the others fanned out, and Hinata smiled to herself, not looking back but observing with her Byakugan how they listened and did what she had ordered.

She entered the house and went past a pair of citizen pressing themselves against the wall with their backs. Now that shinobi were in their houses, they looked far more fearful than before. The mother clutched a baby to her chest with hair a darker shade of blond than Naruto's. Hinata thought about smiling, but then ignored them as best she could and climbed the stairs to the next level. It was a rich home, with expensive carpets and shelves stacked with silverware and scrolls, even some books at points.

She sent one Genin to search the lower level, the other to secure the upper one, and went herself toward the window with red and orange colored glass, through which the sun shone a peculiar light into the room.

 _Click._

Havingheard the noise, her Byakugan focused on a small box on a table. It had not carried any signature before, but now it lit up in blue. From the box glowing lines criss-crossed on the floor, the walls, the ceiling, scrambling over the carpets and the shelves, and moving toward the door, down to the next level, up to the next level, then out to the street.

Hinata recognized the seal for release found on most sealing scrolls, but not more. A blink later the sudden amount of chakra saturating the room screamed at her. She threw herself forward, through the window, shattering the glass and landing on the plaza in a heap of colored shards and blood.

She stared at the broken window, at the house, mouth opened, throat closing inch by inch as fear and horror grappled with denial. Out the window billowed a yellow-green cloud, thick, and spreading acidic smell. She heard a scream. Then she heard more but not from the house, and she rolled onto her stomach, looking through her Byakugan at the plaza, then at the city; and her stomach rolled in response, her legs cramped and the air escaped her in a senseless wail she could not control. Clouds hovered in every street, and the screams grew louder and in size. In some houses, shinobi slumped to the ground, next to civilians who did the same. And she could not understand, had not the capability to grasp what was happening to them, to her.

Hinata crawled forward, to the slab of stone, and tried to sit up against it. There, watching all collapse around her, she focused her healing inward. A coughing fit stopped her, and only once she got it under control could she continue, feeling the spit build up and then leave her mouth uncontrollably.

The color of her skin changed to a pallid purple, and she thought of Naruto, and hoped that wherever he was, he would be far away from this.

* * *

In the temple of Ike, Sakura knelt beside her two unconscious teammates, watching them, chewing on her fingernails, grimacing, spitting out the grime and dirt she ate, stopping, then repeating. Around the island, the water changed between raging and tranquil in an unsteady rhythm; at the moment it was calm, undisturbed. Two ferns swam around on it; the concentrated mass of chakra Naruto exuded at times had ripped them out long ago. The red rock beside his head was slightly cracked.

At the other end of the temple she heard the priest get up in a laborious motion, panting and wheezing. The incense burner rolled on the floor when the priest's foot hit against it as he heaved himself to his feet. But seeing that the priest shuffle into the other direction, toward the temple front, she turned back.

Sakura had almost resigned herself to carrying both later on, when Sasuke opened his eyes. He looked around, dazed, then massaged his brow. "Still fighting," he said.

They waited for a few minutes that appeared like hours, but at least with one of them back Sakura found the silence not as unbearable anymore. And when the red haze covering Naruto dimmed at last, her heart jumped a beat.

 _It's all good_ , she told herself. _He is fine, and he'll come back_.

Naruto stopped glowing altogether, but his eyes stayed shut. His breathing evening out, he remained unconscious. Sakura sat with squinted eyes, waiting for the sign that he was with them again, but he had yet to return, and the longer she waited the more it became apparent.

"It's over," Sasuke said. "No chakra other than his circulating through his body."

"You think we should head back?"

Sasuke's brows furrowed. "Might be better. We've been away for half an hour now. If we stay any longer they'll ask questions."

"They'll do that anyway," said Sakura, lifting Naruto on her shoulders. "Let's go."

Together they went over the lake and were halfway through the temple, when an explosion made the ground quiver. More followed until all they heard was a continuous boom coming from the direction of the city. They dashed to the temple entrance, where the priest sunk to his knees, eyes wide open, mouth twisted in a grimace of horror and incomprehension. Sakura followed his line of sight and then she saw it: like smoke ascending from a chimney the size of a city, yellow-green clouds surged through and out of the streets. The priest started crying, earnest sobs as he stared at his city, oscillating between chanting 'no' and asking Odaya what they had done to earn his wrath.

Sakura shifted Naruto on her back for more mobility. Face set, she said, "We have to help them," and was almost at the entrance, when Sasuke's hand held her back.

"We don't know how long this will linger, Sakura. We've no protection against it."

She knew that, but doing nothing would drive her into madness. "Maybe we can make some. Put some cloth to our noses. Goddamn, Sasuke. Hinata is down there." She turned to him, miserable and enraged, and saw that he looked like he knew exactly who was down there and that the helplessness frustrated him maybe even more than her.

"He is—He is right," the priest said, standing up, wiping the tears, eyes still transfixed on the horizon where the poison-pregnant city was bloating. "If you go in there, you will die," he told them, straightening his shoulders, trying to get back his bearings. "With the wind as still as it is, we can thank Odaya that the poison hasn't reached us yet. But it will soon. The first clouds are coming already."

The priest looked at them, then at the poison as if he was deciding on something. Then he said, "Follow me," and walked away with brisk steps. Sakura looked at Sasuke, then shrugged her shoulders, though she saw that Sasuke had a hand on the hilt of his sword if this turned out to be a trap.

They followed the priest into the corridor from which he had come earlier, past a long row of doors, a few opened, leading into different chambers. At the end of the hallway they reached a large door made of massive jade, a drop of rain engraved on it. The priest tugged at the heavy bronze handle, pulling open the door with a screech as it moved over the tiled floor. Then he went in, beckoning them to enter also.

"This," he said, taking a torch from the wall and lighting every other torch in the large room, "is the treasury of the temple." His voice still wavered, being no comparison to what he had sounded before when he tried to stop them. He closed the door with another strong tug. "If this doesn't shield us, only His grace will."

The fire glinted in the golden vases, and the rubies and coins and trinkets heaped in large mounds. At the far side, on a holster, hung a large, unfurled tapestry between two basalt stela. On the tapestry, rough-sewn pictures alternated with scriptures, none of which Sakura could read or interpret.

She lowered Naruto to the ground, leaning him against a mound of coins. The priest watched her, but if he took umbrage was unclear; his lips stayed shut.

"You helped us," Sasuke said, hand still on the hilt, question implied, answer required to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.

"You would not poison your own shinobi," the priest said, lips twisting into a deep-set scowl directed at the outside. "And if you did not do this, young shinobi, then I have a fair idea of who it was."

"Why would they do that?" asked Sakura, but she regretted the question immediately after posing it. The _why_ was clear, but no one—from the shrewd Danzo to the cautious Kakashi—had anticipated such a disregard for the life of Wind Country's civilian population. Least of all from the rebels who swore to take it back.

"Why indeed," the priest said, shaking his head. "For hundreds of years, Ike has stood as a bulwark to Odaya. Now it is gone."

"The city's still standing."

The priest directed a furious gaze at Sasuke. "But the people are gone. What is a city without people? Nothing but wood and bricks, boy. The people make a city, not the buildings. And now they are gone."

Sakura shot Sasuke a reproachful glance, then turned to the priest and said, "Maybe not all of them are gone. The poison could be tailored to—"

A harsh, biting laugh escaped the priest. "It is not tailored, just pushed to an incredible scope." He spat on the floor, hitting a holy vase and not caring about it. "I do not know how they made this possible," he said. "But they did, and now all are dead. The Yellow Desert Bloom kills quickly in too high a concentration."

"Wait a second, I know that name," Sakura said.

"It is used in every city, from here to Sukoru, girl. We use it to protect what little crops we have from the sun and the Hiea-bees. A small dose isn't toxic, but too much of it and the people get sick—even more than that and they die."

"That's insane," Sakura said.

"It is what it is," the priest answered. "And it is controlled by the court as well as being difficult to manufacture. Getting enough for a poisonous load is hard…getting enough for this"—he pointed in the direction of the city—"should be impossible."

Sasuke grunted. "Apparently it isn't."

"How long does it linger?"

"The farmers go back to their fields after thirty minutes. I do not know if the same holds true for such an amount though." Sitting down on a chest, the priest buried his head in his hands. He looked an old, broken man. "I don't understand this. Not only must they have found a way to hasten the process, but they had to procure the ingredients, too. Desert Sage isn't the problem; it grows everywhere. But mushrooms of the Rakaji mines, camphor, and the distilled essence of Iya-Lotus? They must have scoured the country for years." The priest gripped his hair tightly. "How long has this mad plan been in the works?"

"Long enough to make problems now," came a weak voice from behind them. Sakura turned, almost crushing Naruto as she threw her arms around him. He returned the hug weakly, soon pushing her away a few inches. The look on his face, a mixture of emptiness, mingled with traces of an unbearable kind of sadness she could not describe and could not find the reason for.

"You're back," Sasuke said.

"Seems like it." Naruto rotated his shoulders, sighing as they cracked. "Your eyes alright? The fox was damn talkative today."

Sasuke activated his Sharingan in response, and Naruto muttered, "I knew the asshole lied to me." Then, directing his attention to the person not belonging to Team Seven in the room, he asked, "Are you the head priest of this joint?"

This time the priest took offense. His brows curled into a frown. "Yes, boy, I am. And now that you are awake, you might want to tell me what you three were doing here. Desecrating a temple is not something done easily. You shinobi of all people should have no trouble believing that there are higher powers who can and will punish you for this."

"I used this place for what it's supposed to be used, that's all."

"You tamed a Bijū?"

"The—"

"Naruto!"

"—Kyuubi," Naruto continued, ignoring Sakura. "It's okay," he said, moving his hands in a placating gesture. "I want some answers, and I don't think I'll get them from anyone else today."

Sasuke snorted. "Why would he even tell you?"

"Because that's the purpose of this temple—that's all. If he's the head priest, then he should be interested in this." Facing the priest, "If not, tell me now so I can stop wasting my time with you."

"Continue," the priest said. "The last time a Jinchūriki tried to master the Ichibi was during my master's time as the head priest."

"Good. Then what the hell is this place? Why did I meet my dad, and heard what I can only assume was my mother? Why the fuck was the Kyuubi strong enough to get this damn far even? That asshole almost evaporated the cage entirely."

During the tirade, Sakura stared at Naruto, as did Sasuke.

 _His parents in the seal?_

The priest mulled things over in silence, now and then glancing at the large tapestry. "When the first Jinchūriki of the Ichibi wrote down his experiences, he spoke of equaling forces," he said. "In the battle against a Bijū, the good just as well as the bad is dragged to the fore, according to him. The island strengthens these forces, which offers a man with little power but a pure heart and conscience the chance to stand equal to the Bijū.

"In return, however, should an impure heart, or one ravaged by the calamities of the soul find its way to this place, the opposite would happen." The priest tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I cannot tell you why you met your parents—nothing of this stands anywhere in the scripture—but it is a fact that if they saved you, they were among the most positive of your soul. You should be thankful for that, young man. I know of no shinobi with a heart pure enough to withstand the trials of Ike. Their presence, wherever it might have come from, was what saved you today."

"What about the first Jinchūriki of the Ichibi?" Sakura asked. "He must've been a shinobi."

The priest hummed in his throat. "He was a shinobi from before the warring clan era, who had the bad luck to be the son of a clan leader. But when his father asked him to kill to advance the clan's power, he refused. Before they could incarcerate him, he fled, his way leading him to this place. Where, after years of meditation, he entered into the famed contest with the Ichibi and emerged the victor."

"I killed a few people too many then," Naruto said.

"Yes," the priest said, "it is this exact humor and disregard for life that 'evaporated the cage' as you put it. Had you been a civilian, your chances might have been better."

"Yeah, well, that ship sailed a while ago."

"All the more it is curious that you survived. Cherish this chance, a second like this will not come along easily."

Under different circumstances they might have talked longer. Sakura found, however, that this constituted not even close to being an acceptable time for exchanging knowledge with a priest. They waited in silence, then, until a while later Sakura looked at the jade door and said, "Time should be up now."

The priest nodded. "If the time remains the same, you should be safe from the poison now. Regardless, I advise you to put some cloth in front of your faces. It would not do to become careless now."

Heeding the advice, they fashioned themselves facemasks. "What about you?" Naruto asked.

Voice muffled by a mask of his own, the priest said, "I will accompany you to the first victim I see. Perhaps some are still alive. Them I will help, as is my duty. Today, more than ever, Odaya's mercy is needed. Go now, there is no time to lose."

The priest led them out of the chamber and through the corridor with the shuffle of a man who knew what awaited him outside. And as Team Seven walked behind him, Sakura frowned at the man's back. A civilian knew of Naruto's secret now, and though she did not expect him to reveal it, the shinobi code was clear in such matters—there could be no witnesses. She glanced at Sasuke, whose hand closed in on his sword as they increased their pace to draw level with the priest. One swipe, and it would be over. He looked hesitant, but then strengthened his grip and moved. Before Sasuke came close to the priest's neck, however, Naruto grabbed his wrist, shaking his head. And without argument, Sasuke put the sword back as quietly as he had drawn it, and they moved on, following the priest.

* * *

Miles away from Ike, Temari and Ren were watching the progress of Konoha's army. The first wave, half the troops by her estimate, had charged the city twenty minutes ago, dust welling up in large clouds under their feet. They had made noise, but not a lot of it, moving with quiet efficiency. Now, inside the city, she could not hear them anymore. The fields of sand lay quiet, and in that silence she wondered whether Naruto counted to the shinobi down below.

"They're staying outside, Ren," Kiro said, standing behind her, too close even, his voice uncomfortably loud in her ears. "They're not goin' in after them. I don't think it'll work. We have to do something, or they'll escape."

"Calm down," Ren said. He smiled as he observed Konoha. "We have an unlikely friend. I don't think they'll have it much safer outside."

"You mean—"

"I do," said Ren.

Temari refrained from asking. They would not answer anyway. Since her return she had become all but irrelevant besides her body, in which resided the blood of the former Kazekage. Presumably she had been nothing else before, but she could not say that with certainty. Back then she held command over shinobi. Ren had trusted her, if not with vital information, then still with enough to make her feel important in a way. But Ren had changed, and she did, too, and a trust once broken could hardly be mended under such conditions. At least he told her Kankuro still served the cause, healthy and with devotion.

Then the ground heaved a shuddering breath. A roar drowned out every other sound in her ears, soon eclipsed by another, more violent cacophony, when a chain of explosions brought to heel her senses and reason altogether. As though a God in an act of revenge had taken a sack of venomous flour and tipped it over Ike, powdered dust swelled through the city, climbing above the roofs in thick, wafting clouds.

The color struck a familiar chord, too familiar. She wheeled around to Ren. "What is that?" she said, thinking, _I know what this is, but please, please let me be wrong about it. They can't have done this._

"Our purpose," said Ren. "We're here to see if it works. And I think it does, wouldn't you agree?"

"Enough to take back our country," Kiro said.

"Indeed."

Temari stood watching Ike suffocate in a cloud of Yellow Desert Bloom, unable to form coherent words at the sight. She remembered that only two days ago she had walked this city, buying coffee beans and grinding them for a cup in the house of a friendly old man. Senyaku had ordered her to patrol the marketplace, near the stone tablet with Odaya's scripture, to talk with as many people she could, easing them into their upcoming task. They would have to show courage in the face of Konoha's siege, look the daemons in the eye when they passed by their doors, to make it seem like a peaceful surrender. For that day, all of them would become part of their first shinobi mission. All of them would aid their country, lifting off themselves the chains that leashed them to Konoha. And the invaders, secure in their victory, would never see coming the ambush that marks their end.

She had not questioned when Senyaku pulled out with his forces a day later, leaving Ren and his group there. The rhetoric had persuaded her, and like all the civilians in Ike she had believed him and his army to prepare the ambush.

Fighting with the sick feeling pervading her body, she leaned on her war fan. Temari grappled down the desire to empty her stomach, turning to glare at Ren. "These people had nothing to do with the war. They're civilians!"

While she spoke, the alarm bells from the city towers tolled. Soon they fell silent, however, death laying claim to that last sign of life.

"I know," said Ren. The flash of contrition on his face disgusted her. That in some part of his mind he had still harbored qualms about this massacre, yet still chose to enact the plan made him all the more a beast. "But," he said, "there are hundreds of Konoha-nin down there. And _they_ have everything to do with it."

"You blasted the second largest city in our country to deal them a blow? There are thousands in Ike! Thousands!"

Ren gave her a gruff look. "This is war, Temari. And we're on the right side of it, don't forget that."

The right side? How, she thought, could this ever be called the right side? She looked about the group, searching for any indication that the other shinobi felt a similar sense of horror, that beside Ren and Kiro none of them had known. But they met her gaze with nothing save hardened expressions. Madness had taken hold of them all. Faces she remembered being awash in happiness once, now were distorted by the knowledge that each of them had willingly sacrificed to this insanity. But there had to be others. She could not believe that everyone of her old friends knew of this, had willingly accepted such a massacre.

"Senyaku-sama has more things planned," Kiro said. "Wind Country will belong to us again, one way or another. Hajim will be so much fun."

The sick elation in his voice, the warped sense of patriotism, made her snap. "There's no way my father would have done something this despicable. Or any other Kazekage! This is lunacy, Ren. You can't just—"

Ren tried to slap her silent, but she leaned back, letting the flat palm sail past her face. "Do I have to gag you to get some quiet?" he said, retracting his hand with a deep-set scowl. "This is how it'll work until nothing is left of that scum. Nothing. You understood that, yes? So keep your mouth shut and do as you're told. I've no patience for prissy bitches right now."

"This will continue?" she said.

"You test me, Temari. If you want to survive until we bring this war to Fire Country, you better stop talking."

She stood across him, stiff as a tree. Then she kicked against the lower end of her fan, letting it spin upward into her hands. " _Fūton: Kami Oroshi_." Her voice was measured, and with a slight of hand and a twirl she opened the fan three stars wide, blasting them with wind. She noticed many of them secure themselves with techniques and chakra, but cared little else for her handiwork.

Turning, she closed the fan and threw it like a spear toward the city, before leaping after it. A tora seal later the fan unfolded on its own, slowing down, and she landed on it in a crouch, sailing toward Ike.

* * *

As Team Seven moved over the bridge with the head priest and went back into the city proper, all Sasuke noticed—despite the cloth—was the smell of piss and shit and emptied bowels filling the streets. There was little blood, and when he saw some, then only from the people who, in their haste to escape the poison, had jumped through the windows and now lay on the ground, their ankles twisted in unnatural angles, their broken limbs squeezed between the street and their body, heads mashed open.

Some lay sprawled in the entrances to their houses, or had slid down halfway the stairs: their faces a pallid purple, fingernails turned black, and irises a churning yellow with red lines, almost like chicken scratches around them. Team Seven hurried through the streets, no sound but their footsteps in their wake—no laborious breathing to indicate that somewhere, anyone was alive. Behind them, the priest ran as fast as he could, shocked, and weeping in silence as they neared the plaza. He had hoped for a soul to save, but the people of this city were beyond saving now.

Soon they moved past a house with a walled yard and a long, thin balcony on the second level, from which the hands of two boys dangled, lifeless. _They must have tried to climb over it_ , Sasuke thought. Then he passed the archway to the yard and saw, in the garden on the ground beneath the balcony, a little girl, purple, black, and yellow. The boys had helped her to jump, then. Sasuke pressed the cloth harder to his mouth and nose—now also to keep in the bile that gathered in his throat—and he turned his head and hurried on.

On the plaza they found the same scenery, just with more shinobi from Konoha. They had made it farther than the civilians, most managing to leave the homes that had turned into deathtraps. But they too were dead by now, lying either alone or in heaps. At the edge of the plaza lay a pair of Genin from their prior command. They appeared to have crawled toward each other with outstretched arms.

And he felt a sudden hate for whoever had done this; a hate as strong as he had not felt since _that_ night.

About to go on, Sasuke heard a weak cough. Listening closer he also noticed a subtle thrum of chakra and the dampened howl of gathering wind. Team Seven and the priest moved to and around the slab of stone.

And all Sasuke saw was a kunoichi, head enveloped in a cocoon of wind, hands pressed on Hinata's chest, who sat upright against the slab, purple colored like the rest and coughing, but living. Naruto stiffened beside Sasuke, but Sasuke didn't care. He drew his sword and walked up to the woman, ready to slaughter her, ready to slaughter anyone who could be even remotely responsible for this.

"Sasuke!" he heard Naruto shout behind him.

He ignored him, and was almost there. The Suna-nin noticed him but said nothing and turned back to Hinata, pressing her hand tighter on Hinata's chest. Sasuke lifted his sword, but then Hinata coughed again.

"S-Stop, S-Sasuke-san," she said, spittle of blood landing on the Suna-nin's hand. "T-Temari-san is…is helping." Then she coughed more. A series of cramps wracked her body as she writhed on the ground.

Temari grew frantic. "Please, stop talking. You need your energy." And Sasuke felt her transfer more chakra to Hinata. "She's healing herself," Temari told them, without looking up from her hands. "She's doing it internally. The best she can, that's what's keeping her alive. But"—suffusing more chakra—"but she can't continue like this. The poison's spread too far by now."

"Move," Sasuke said, his sword clattering to the ground.

"Only a medic nin can—"

Sasuke bumped her to the side with a rough shove and knelt by Hinata, hands glowing green.

"S-Sasuke-san, you do… not…"

"Stop talking," said Sasuke, trying his hardest to isolate the poison inside her body and pulling it out through the pores of her skin.

He nearly managed, when the poison slipped his grasp. He went back in and tried once more. Damn, he had just resolved to be nicer to this woman for what she had done for him. He wouldn't let her die now. Not here in this godforsaken shithole of a city. He reached in again, deeper, past the poisonous surface, for the core of the pulsing venom. He twisted it around until his chakra firmly grasped it. Just as he tried to extract it, the core split into what felt like tiny clouds and swept back in, clinging to Hinata like a cloak of death.

He felt Hinata grow weaker with each second he failed. Then she called for Naruto, softly, as if the wind carried her voice.

"Hey, Hina-chan," Naruto whispered, leaning over her so she could see his face.

"N-Naruto-kun," she said, lips pulling up in a weak smile. He squeezed her purple hand lightly. "Please," she said, gathering another shuddering breath as he leaned in to hear her failing voice, "find...light...again."

The last breath, carrying her last word, then Sasuke sensed no life in her anymore. Her stare went through Naruto now, as the muscles in her mouth slackened and spit and blood began leaking out the corners of her lips, trailing down her throat and dripping on the dry stonework below.

* * *

Naruto crouched beside her body and looked at her face, trying to memorize how he knew it had looked before the purple disease had spread. He burned it into his mind, from the soft skin, to the curve of her lips when she smiled, and the way her eyes became focused when she found something interesting, or wide when she witnessed some of his earlier antics.

Then Naruto closed his eyes, took another minute, and rose from his crouch. Temari stood a few feet apart from their group, the priest beside her. Gaara's sister, who had saved him and whom he had betrayed in return; Gaara's sister, who belonged to the very people that set this plague on Ike, but who had tried to help Hinata. Try as he might, he could not make heads or tails of this woman.

His teammates had shifted into unobtrusive combat stances, weapons ready, eying Temari with obvious distrust—as they should. Naruto felt cold steel in his hand, too, the kunai having found its way into his hand on instinct.

What do you do at this point? he asked himself. What was left to do after thousands died a death that could not be more useless if it tried? He asked her the first and most important question that came to mind: "Did you know about this?"

 _She might be lying to me_ , he thought, _but if she does I can't do anything about it. I only know that if she says 'yes' then I will slit her throat from ear to ear and gladly talk with Gaara about it later._

Temari shook her head. "They never told me anything after I came back," she said, grasping for words. Her eyes flickered from him to his teammates and back. A myriad of emotions danced in them, disgust arm in arm with betrayal; fear, sadness and horror lifting their feet in lockstep as they ran circles. "I was watching the invasion with Ren," she said. "We were supposed to—"

"That bastard's here?" Naruto said, heat shooting up his face.

"He's gone now, I think. When they…I didn't, I couldn't—" Her face was a mask of being lost. "Too much," she said quietly to herself, and he strained his ears to hear her. "They had no right. No one has, not to this."

 _God, how I hope you're not lying to me right now_ , Naruto thought. But he knew he could never be sure. Still, the existed a side of him that still held a small affection for her, and which could not imagine Temari to have any part in this.

"Why are you here?" he said.

"To help," she said. "To do something, anything—and to warn someone. This isn't the only city. Ren told me they planned more of this."

"They want to repeat this massacre?" asked Sakura, blanching.

"He told me they'd visit Fire Country afterward," Temari said, biting her lip as Sakura came closer, knife stowed away but still in reach.

"That's insane," said Naruto. "How would they even get through the borders?"

"It is," Temari said. "But he didn't listen; none of them did. They'd rather see this country burn than remain in Konoha's hands." She paused. "Senyaku…He was different at first. But this war drove him mad. It drove them all mad."

Her words, at last, made sure that the side of Naruto which liked her won out. He remembered well his time in prison and the many talks they had. The country, to her, was everything. And if the forces supposed to save it did the opposite instead, they went against all she believed. He had once asked himself what Temari considered best for her country, where she drew the line. Now he knew, and wished he didn't. The knowledge came drenched in blood, and he would rather have remained ignorant than learn like this.

The question now posing itself was what to do with her.

Sasuke apparently read his mind. Lips pressed to a thin line, he said, "We'll bring her to Kakashi. She's still a rebel."

Naruto agreed in general but hesitated nonetheless. Temari puzzled him, but if she told the truth then she might have helped them right now to avoid even more death. What was it with this woman, whom he could envision kissing just as well as killing?

"Given the circumstances," said the priest, "I would offer her to stay in the temple, far away from all shinobi. There she could repent and help whomever can still be helped in this city. Faith is, I believe, what she now needs most. That, and Odaya's strength."

"Put her in a temple?" Sasuke said to Naruto. "She killed our shinobi, captured you, and belongs to the rebels. The temple is too good for her." He glared at him. "Think, moron. This can't end well. Who's to say she won't stab us in the back? What about you, Sakura?"

Sakura looked sharply at Temari, and Naruto thought there swung a fair bit of something in that glare that he did not understand. Then Sakura's features eased, and she turned to Naruto. "It's your decision."

 _Which leaves me exactly where I was a minute ago_ , Naruto thought, considering Temari.

In the end he put away his kunai. "A life for a life, Temari. You saved me from that dust storm and tried to help Hinata. We're even. Go to the temple if you want, but make sure I never see you again."

The head priest grabbed Temari's arm, to gently lead her to the temple, when she said, "I won't go to the temple," extracting herself from the man's grip. "I'll come with you back to your camp."

"You will be a prisoner," the priest said. "They will not hesitate to interrogate you."

"I'll see this through," she said. "If there are any details their commander can ask of me to help save the other cities, I'll do it. I—I just want this to end."

"Child," said the priest, "are you sure about this? Life in the temple would treat you well."

She smiled weakly at him. "I will manage."

"If you're coming with us, then we have to go now," Sasuke said. He didn't really show it, but for Naruto who knew him better than most, the signs of confusion were obvious.

"I will leave you to it, shinobi," the head priest said. "The poison cannot have killed all of Ike's children. I am sure there are some survivors in the cellars."

Naruto looked at the man, and found himself with a strange respect for him. "Thank you for answering my questions."

The priest bowed. "That is why I joined the temple. I entreat you, young man, to search for goodness and truth in your soul. Odaya will never fail to smile on those who act on their conscience, however late in life they start to do so."

Naruto bowed his head in response, though could not help thinking that acting on his conscience as a shinobi was impossible.

* * *

Kakashi had never been one for emotional outbreaks. He felt them, of course, like any other human being, but he did not show it. When he found his father, rope fastened around the neck, dangling from the ceiling, feet moving like a broken compass-needle from side to side as he turned on his axis, Kakashi had been the one to cut him loose. He remembered the soft thud as his father's body hit the floor, and he remembered not crying back then, neither at the funeral, nor later, when he lived in the house for several years before getting his own apartment. Obito and Rin had died; he had cried then, but only for a second after it happened. He mourned them his way, and felt the ache every waking minute, but he did not cry for them anymore. Neither had he cried for Minato-sensei and Kushina-sempai.

For half an hour now he had been looking at the walls of Ike. The green clouds had vanished minutes ago, but he stood, unmoving, never-blinking, and stared at the city that had robbed him of his team, the last real bond he shared with the world. He was numb, and it certainly felt like he should cry, but he didn't. He just stared and hoped that this turned out to be nothing but a bad dream and he would wake up soon in his new room in their new house. Naruto would tell him a joke that was only funny to a select few, and Sasuke and Sakura would be sparring outside in the garden.

But shinobi dealt in reality. And feeling more like crying than he had in years, Kakashi began to move. Many things would need to be organized now: the next group of scouts, a small one, to secure the area and to get an estimate of what might have happened in the city; then a source of water needed to be found—the army could not survive without it. He walked down the dune in a world not wholly his own, issuing commands.

Only when everything was taken care of would he find time to grieve. And he would grieve in the one way he knew: finding the ones responsible for this and making them pay, no matter where they were, or how impossible it would be to reach them. He would make this his last mission.

Kakashi was about to give the Chunin beside him another order, when he caught a couple of chakra signatures on the edge of his awareness, moving fast. His eye widened and, blood pressure rising, he told the Chūnin, "See to it that everything is working."

Then Kakashi rushed away and toward the signatures. A mile away from the camp he saw them: his team and a kunoichi he did not recognize. He resisted the urge to grab a kunai. His team ran side by side with the woman, so for the moment she did not pose a threat.

And though he was not religious, he thanked every deity he could think of as he closed in on them. His team was alive. Kakashi felt something wet under his forehead protector and quickly wiped it away.

 _They made it._

* * *

Kakashi did not know what to make of the story they told him. They had left their posts, abandoned their troops in search for something they refused to name, and now brought a Suna-rebel with them, not in chains but walking free. He was glad they were alive, and that they had been far away from the poison, but they had taken a lot of liberties that he had no idea how to deal with.

"Sensei," said Sakura, urgency in her eyes. "We'll give you the full story later, we promise. But there's no time now. Senyaku wants to do the same to Hajim. We have to warn Danzo and the others! And the city!"

"We will inform Danzo, don't worry, Sakura." Kakashi looked at his team, then at the girl they brought with them—the former Kazekage's daughter if he recalled correctly. "But you won't be the ones doing the informing. There are others in this camp—your comrades—who can do it just as well."

They walked back to the camp while arguing, and Kakashi knew it was selfish, but he wanted them in his vicinity. He had almost lost them now because they had separated again.

"Beside yourself we're the fastest in this army," said Sasuke. "And you know that."

"Our friends are there," Naruto added.

Kakashi knew that. Though he wanted to forget it. "You're not the fastest if you have to navigate the desert on your own. There'll be rebels everywhere, and you know nothing about the paths to travel."

Sakura said, "They're walking right into a trap, sensei."

Then Naruto's eyes flashed with a spark Kakashi recognized from their spars.

"No," Kakashi said preemptively.

Naruto began talking, unimpressed. "Temari can guide us. She knows the desert. She can show us the fastest way to Hajim."

"She's a prisoner," said Kakashi, eying the kunoichi, who became increasingly uncomfortable. "By all rights I should have her killed for what happened in Ike."

"She's the one who saved me from the dust storm," Naruto said. "And she kept me alive during the torture."

That reduced Kakashi's glare when he looked at Temari, but failed to change matters by much. "I can't let you go with her, Naruto. She's an enemy combatant."

"She's the best chance we have, sensei," came from Sakura.

She stood beside Naruto, same as Sasuke, who frowned at Temari but kept his silence regarding her. Kakashi didn't know whether to feel betrayed and undermined in his authority, or proud of their teamwork even if they had differing opinions. But that still wasn't enough. He could send another group of Chūnin. They would be slower—by a fair margin—but it would suffice.

 _It must_ , he thought. _I won't let you leave this place so soon after getting you back through the miracle of insubordination._

"You will not be the ones to warn them, and that's an—"

The pressure abruptly crashing down on them felt heavier than Kakashi remembered, though by now familiar. Even that far away, the center of the camp exuded incredible heat. Columns of fire spiraled skyward. Four brown tails, each as tall as a tree, swiped from side to side, ripping away tents and setting them ablaze under a cacophony of screams.

Kakashi stared at the spectacle for a second, a feeling of incredible unease welling up inside him. He knew himself to be the single person able to deal with Rōshi, and this knowledge clashed to the extreme with his desire to keep Team Seven close. He wanted them nowhere near that Jinchūriki once he used more than one tail.

In the end it turned out to be a matter of having faith in them. He felt bitter that even after all his training with Tsunade he still could not stay with them, for he lacked the strength to handle Rōshi easily.

But over the last months he had also seen and experienced their exceptional growth. Beside him they were the strongest and the fastest in this half of the army, and though they might encounter problems on the way to Hajim, they would come out ahead as they had always done, which made this all about trust, then. Trust, not in _his_ team—because it was _their_ team now, and he started to accept that every teacher's role is to eventually fade away—but trust in the Chūnin standing before him, who might as well be Jōnin already for the experience and skill they had gathered.

He readied himself. Before he left them, however, Kakashi turned to Temari. "You want to repent? Then bring them to their target. But I warn you: if you betray them, I will find you. There will be no hole in this desert large enough for you to crawl into."

Then he launched himself forward, speeding up to meet the monstrous Jinchūriki of Iwa.

* * *

 **AN:** That's it for today, folks. My thanks to DLP for all their help. I hope all of you enjoyed the carnage so far, and be assured this is just the beginning. In case you're wondering, I put this chapter out earlier because I probably won't be available for the next two weeks.


	18. Scattered IV

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

 **AN:** Here we go with the next chapter. One week in Italy and I'm well rested. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Scattered IV**

* * *

 _Looking at the world through diamond eyes._

* * *

From the second level of a half-destroyed house, Gaara overlooked the mud brick roofs of Boeki Tōshi. They went up to the red cliff that squeezed the city between itself, the ocean, and the desert. While the sea that lay behind the second largest port of Wind Country reflected the evening sun, ash coated the streets below. Blood clung to the cobblestones, although not quite as much as expected. The city had proved far less defended by rebels than Shishi, and the blood that painted murals on the walls belonged to the locals, who viewed this attack as just another attempt from Suna to bring the free-spirited Boeki Tōshi under its jurisdiction—a train of thought as old as the city itself.

An angry shout on the street below caught his attention. Three Suna Genin marched a man into the building he stood on, deaf to their prisoner's proclamations of innocence. Gaara wondered if what he felt was pride; he had no measurement for it. But he realized he felt something when watching his Genin, and that brought the vestige of a smile to his face.

Before the gates of Shishi they had proved their mettle in the inevitable battle that followed the infiltration. During the siege of Boeki Tōshi, they had worked better perhaps than even their contemporaries of Konoha—each having received individualized training from him. But that thought conjured an uncomfortable amount of hubris for a nation chained to another.

 _I will be the Kazekage_ , Gaara told himself, as he did often these days to remember what it truly meant. _I shoulder the burdens of my village. And if I do it well enough, I might find the solace I seek_.

Had Sakura spoken the truth when she told him these words, or was it an attempt to control him and gain more leverage for Konoha? He did not want to believe it, but a future Kage had to entertain the thought. Should her words have been spoken in an attempt to coerce, did they lose any of their truthful value though? In the years of being a political hostage, he found that religion did not appeal to him. He remembered the many verses of the scripture of Odaya, and while tranquility sounded well, he knew he could never achieve it through prayer. His salvation would come through work with his own hands, just as he had destroyed by his own hands, and no entity other than himself would be able to balance his conscience, certainly no God.

In that thought he found peace, and Sakura's words—whether true or false—became important. They spurred him to activity instead of reminding him of the monster in his past. And if they were the lighthouse to guide him through these waters, then he would follow the light, because Suna's waters were still troubled and his village needed all the help it could get.

The man from the street in tow, his Genin entered through a broken doorway. They brought someone else, too, Danzō following close behind. The prisoner, now kneeling on the ground, a Genin at each side, wore sun-colored pants and a golden chain from nose to earlobe. He smelled of tobacco, spice and sex.

"I did nothing wrong," the man said, looking around the room for help. "I'm a merchant, that's all—a merchant. Why am I here? I—"

"Your name?" asked Danzō.

"Aasim."

Gaara did not recognize the name, but Danzō straightened on his cane. A known entity, then? In truth, Gaara had brought him in because he noticed the man robbing the homes where casualties with the population had occurred. One broken down house in particular, which he left with a bag making clinking sounds all the way down the street as he moved into an alley. But that was all there was to it. Gaara wanted to discipline him, and then send him on his way. There were bigger problems at the moment.

Danzō, however, circled Aasim like a shark would a fisher's boat, and Aasim twitched with each hit from the butt of Danzō's cane on the floor. "I know who you are," said Danzō at last, stopping behind the man. "And while this is not why you are here, it will entice you to answer truthful nonetheless, I am sure. It would certainly lessen your sentence." Then, a second later, "You know this city better than most?"

Aasim nodded. "Information," he said. "I can give you information. As much as you want. There's no one better than me at getting and giving information. It's my business, even, you could say—a good one I made a fortune with—and you'll find no better supplier than Aasim. I can tell you where to get what you need, find what you desire—how to circumvent the laws—yes, even in your country—don't believe me? Just wait until you hear about all the ways. There's a wealth of opportunity, and—"

"Stop your pattering."

Aasim stopped mid-word, as Danzō's voice sharpened like a sword on a whetstone. "How many rebels have you seen in the city? Give me a good count. And why are there no ships in the harbor?"

"No ships? Ah, right, no ships. Yes, you are completely right—of course that would be the information you need. I, erm, yes, I counted many rebels, but not as many as I thought I would. I heard of Shishi—a real fortress that city. Boeki Tōshi not so much. They didn't care for it—or maybe they did and didn't want to show it? Anyway, now you are here so that point's moot. Not many shinobi that I saw, but the matter is related to the ships, I think. Everything is always related to ships in Boeki Tōshi, believe me—always. They came and took them. A few stayed—you saw them, manning the walls.

"Not sure if anything could scare you, but they made you wait two days, didn't they? I guess that's a reached objective as far as objectives go. Probably could've taken the city the day you arrived. Though stubborn headed folks would've made it hard—you saw it, right?—they love their freedom. But hey, who doesn't? Still, there's a line to walk, especially when dealing with sieging shinobi. I saw the signs, believe me, and when you came, I stayed in my house and told all my friends to do the same—no need to incur your wrath, right? Never should incur the wrath of a shinobi is what my grandmother used to tell me. Now that was a woman with a healthy respect for your craft—it is a craft, right? Or do you consider it an art? By the way—"

Danzō's cane met the ground with ferocity and Aasim grew silent, eyes closed, as if awaiting death, having talked himself out of life in the attempt to buy it. Danzō spoke to the Genin. "Lock him in a cell. He will have his uses later." The Genin looked first to Gaara—which pleased him but not Danzō—and after receiving a nod, left with Aasim toward the prisoner tent, which had grown exponentially after Shishi, and weakly staffed was always the last to arrive at a siege.

"If what he says is truthful, the rebels plan to use ships," said Gaara, his mind rifling through the clutter of information Aasim had left them. "I cannot conceive the possibility of a nautical assault."

"They would be fools to attack us from the sea; their strength lies in these prolonged sieges." Danzō threw a glance at the empty port. "The ships are an insurance, nothing more. Once they cross the Nanmen Ocean with them, they are out of our reach and safe. This is also why they stall us, Kazekage- _dono_. They wish to secure their escape as much as possible—which is not something I plan to allow. We march to Hajim immediately."

"I will ready my troops." A shiver ran down Gaara's back as he called them his troops, a mixture of pride, responsibility, but also the knowledge that troops implied a larger amount than what actually existed. Danzō knew that too, if his arched eyebrow was an indicator.

"See that you do," said Danzō, leaning on his cane. "And ready them well. We will not lose time again like we did today. Once we arrive at Hajim, you and your _troops_ will advance and break the walls."

Gaara, who was turning to the window—from where he could hear Aasim talking to his captors still—stopped mid-motion. "All I have under my command are Genin, Danzō-dono. They are strong, but not enough to storm the walls of a city on which their parents might stand." And he had the terrible suspicion that Danzō wanted to keep his forces small, whichever way was convenient.

"I do not care for their feelings. I care however for how the rebels might react when they see you. In Shishi you only played a minor role. But I am sure they have not forgotten you, or your deeds. If nothing else, it will shake them for a moment. And that is all we need to break their walls." Danzō narrowed his eye to a thin little slit. "I will not allow them their escape, Kazekage-dono."

There was a sudden anger bubbling up in Gaara, but he did his best to contain it and remain calm. He let fury lead him once, he would not do so again. Danzō possessed more power than him by far, and Gaara needed to recognize that. If Danzō made it an explicit order, then he would have to abide by it. Likewise, as the Kazekage, he could not give in without achieving something himself, even the smallest victory in such a situation would work.

 _I am the Kazekage_ , he thought, paying no mind to the fact that he had yet to ascend, and spoke, "If what you need is my reputation, Danzō-dono, you shall have it. But I ask that you allow my Genin to serve under another commander for the time being. At their current level, the breach of the wall is no place for them."

Danzō would not go for it, Gaara knew. No commander from Konoha would want a host of Suna-shinobi in their ranks. Not after what happened and not for a long time to come. But it led up to another argument he could make, that was just as logically sound as Danzō's rebuttal.

"There is a lot to consider when storming a city," said Gaara, voice arid. "And if they set traps or ambushes, neither my face nor my reputation will stop them to kill what remains of Suna's army. If you wish for me to take the walls, I will need the Aburame and the Inuzuka with me, or any other capable scout able to spot danger well ahead." He paused, letting it sink in. Outright denial of this request would make Danzō appear not a strategic thinker, but an underhanded ally, and if it worked, putting two clan heirs on the frontlines might make him more intent on not leaving them alone at the walls and joining the battle soon. Gaara added, "I already became acquainted with both, so it would be no trouble." Which was not a lie. He had met both, after all.

Quietly, Danzō considered the proposal, eye never straying from Gaara's face. At length he turned, and, walking through the door, said, "You will have your scouts, Kazekage-dono. We march at sunrise."

Gaara was left standing in the room, the sun now having sunk below the horizon, and the cold wind coming from the ocean cooling the sweat on his neck. Shimura Danzō was a dangerous man, and talking with him felt, as always, like walking in a pit of scorpions.

* * *

First they followed the river leading from Ike to the ocean. As the river curved, they kept straight on moving south and toward Gōmon, a fisher village at the coast famous for its pottery and tortoise eggs.

Pilfering four sets of clothes from the village, Temari told them to lose their uniforms and headbands. The rebels would notice them anyway if they tried to, she said, but this would hide them from watchful eyes of a different nature. In a poor country like this, money went a long way to make the locals notify Senyaku once Konoha entered their sight.

Naruto sealed their uniforms, before putting on the loose-fitting pants, the wide cotton shirt, and the brown cloak Temari had stolen. They took a path past Gōmon, moving along the shoreline fringed with rock formations, big and small, and utilizing them as cover. It proved useful. A few miles east of Gōmon they encountered the first group of rebels, four stragglers on their way to Hajim who sat around a fire, roasting fish.

Naruto leaned closer to the rock, feeling the sharp edges press into him, hearing the crackling of fire and smacking lips.

"You done?"

"One more."

"We should hurry."

"I said, _one more_."

"Okay, okay. Jeez. Take it, then. But hurry up."

"You saw what happened to Ike?"

"Hard not to."

"You could see the green clouds from miles away."

"You think it's—"

"We're not here to question our orders."

The talk around the fire died down. Above the ocean, an aggressive sea-gull screeched itself hoarse. Naruto's heart beat faster, and he reigned it in, tried to in any case. Jumping across this rock might alleviate the pressure inside him, but would help little in their mission. Sudden disappearances, of patrols no less, tended to garner attention.

"I still say it's a—"

"Don't. Orders are orders."

"But—"

"No. We talked about this."

"Come on, you two—stop it. We have to go."

"She's right. Final spurt. Let's make it fast."

Naruto heard rustling, shifting grains, someone cracking his fingers. He waited until, minutes later, Sakura tapped his shoulder.

"They're out of range," she said.

"Good," said Naruto. He vaulted over the rocks, finding Sasuke kneeling on the other side already, inspecting the fire.

"They kept it burning for a few hours," Sasuke said.

"They weren't at Ike," Temari said. "I didn't recognize their voices."

"Close to it, probably," said Sakura. "A village or two removed."

Naruto stared along the shoreline. For miles ahead, nothing but sand on one side, water on the other. "How fast did they go, Sakura?"

"A good clip," she said. "We can keep behind them without losing too much time."

The journey continued. Naruto tasted the briny air, as rolling waves licked the desert and a stiff breeze came from south-west, making the heat bearable. He followed Sasuke's example and kept silent, listening to Temari as she told Sakura more about the villages on the coast, and the road project supposed to create a larger net of highways between the cities—an endeavor that failed because raiders kept stealing the bricks to sell them on the markets of the poorer villages.

Sakura paid attention, offered a story of her own about the staggering amount of gambling halls in Fire Country, but made not at all the impression as though she liked Temari in any way. The conversation moved on smooth currents, no stone or rock splitting the stream. Yet swimming inside, or even drinking from it would be ill-advised. Toxic water need not drown a man to kill him, and aside from a quick exchange in which Naruto assured Temari that Gaara still lived, he believed it better to mind his own business.

Temari's stories, the seagulls overhead, the thought that being so close to water made him dangerous again—they all proved distractions that could not hold his attention forever. When it wavered, he remembered his father and the voice of his mother calling him baby-boy, and it smarted. More than he would have believed possible.

Then he thought of Hinata, her last words, and wondered what she had meant with 'Light.' Peace perhaps? Peace for Konoha? The world? But had it ever been at peace? Would it ever be? Or did she mean something else entirely? And even if he knew the answers to those questions, finding a solution proved to be the real difficulty. Should he spare every future enemy, in the hope—a quite futile one—they would not strike him back for his efforts?

War was not made for peace; and the image of her corpse, purple-threaded and yellow-eyed and a paleness framed by dark-blue hair, and a smile that now smiled eternally yet would never move and was all the more terrible for it; the blood-drenched spit that ran down her lips after that last breath, mocking her in death and making the scene something so incredibly mundane, as if she was just anyone and not his friend, not the shy and timid girl that had so suddenly stopped him back in Shishi, face set, reluctant yet steel-willed and so different than before—he felt it all, saw it on the whole stretch on the coast with a startling clarity, and he could not stop the incredible anger festering inside him, though he knew whatever exactly she meant with her last words, this was the opposite of it.

His thoughts hitting a wall there, too, he replayed the battle of the Kyuubi, but soon stopped that as well when the memory became too painful. He had thought he knew what an aching soul felt like. But he didn't. Not before seeing what he wanted, and realizing he would never get it. And trapped in this painful loop between his parents, the Kyuubi, and Hinata, his thoughts circled each other, the snake that bites its tail.

"—Naruto?"

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I asked if everything's alright?" Sakura said. "You looked a mile away."

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry." He smiled at her, but even while twisting the corners of his mouth, he knew he mangled it.

Sakura regarded him with the kind of concern that was well-meant but said he should talk about issues he did not care to talk about. "Is it about your parents?" And as usual, she made the right guess.

Naruto offered a clipped nod.

"You want to talk about it?"

 _I don't_ , he thought, and said as much. Sakura's shoulders drooped, and he added, "I need to wrap my head around it first, but we'll talk later, I promise." Then looking forward, "We need to be fast, so no time right now anyway."

She accepted the explanation, brow furrowed, and they moved on, though now in awkward silence since Temari had stopped talking as well.

The ocean flickered by as day became night and then day again. They kept on running. Next morning, Naruto observed a flock of shearwater birds circling a spot in the distance. They were screeching, flying up and down, lifted by the wind, wet crests glimmering white in the sun, then slanting their wings, shooting downward, dipping into the water, and reemerging, forage fish secured.

The spectacle held Naruto's attention for a moment, then he wondered how to feel about his father being the Yondaime and sealing the Kyuubi in his gut. How often had he asked the Sandaime about it? And how often had the man told him that he would learn of it when the time was right? What the hell was that even supposed to mean? Heat flushed his body. Just knowing who they were would have done so much.

And Naruto thought, _who seals a fucking Biju in his son_? But when he tried to muster the appropriate anger, there always also came the sadness of seeing the life drain out of his father's eyes, the guilt of not having lasted the whole minute, cutting their time even shorter. Then his gaze lowered to the sand below, his chest tightened, and a thickness lodged in his throat. And he answered his question with, _my father did, telling me I made them the proudest parents in the world._ Which solved nothing, but eased the ache, making him look up again, and—

A rock hit him in the back of his head. Naruto wheeled around to look for an enemy and found Sasuke standing behind him, throwing another rock up and then catching it with a twist of his wrist.

Naruto touched the back of his head. The hand came back bloody. "What the hell, Sasuke?"

Sasuke ignored him. "Leave us alone for a minute," he said to Temari. She nodded quietly, before slipping behind a rock formation and out of sight.

Naruto went up to Sasuke. All the turmoil inside him suddenly made him rear for a fight. He just had about enough of everything. "What's wrong with you?" he said, but then tried to calm himself. This wasn't the time. "We've got to hurry. They'll bomb Kiba and the others to Iwa and back."

"We stay here until you can focus again."

"Sasuke…" Sakura put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off.

"I won't go anywhere near a combat zone with him like this," Sasuke said. "I threw a rock at him." As if that explained everything. Turning to Naruto he said, "If that had been a kunai you'd either be dead or one of us would've taken the hit for you—take your pick of things that shouldn't happen. So get that shit out of your system if you want to reach Hajim faster."

"Are you fucking serious?" Naruto stepped right up to him, and were Sasuke's arms not crossed, their chests would be touching. Sasuke was a bit taller, and Naruto looked up, unblinking, feeling all the pent-up anger bubble to the surface.

"I don't ask you to talk about your dead family or your fucking brother, do I?"

The narrowing of the eyes was all Naruto had to go by, then Sasuke let fly and a punch—pure force, no chakra—clipped Naruto's chin. Naruto jolted back before charging in, fist rising. They began brawling, their lips starting to bleed, and Sakura stood beside them, telling them to stop but they wouldn't, and then she got between them and the two-way brawl became a three-way fight, just that she was using chakra and her hits hurt far more than Sasuke's.

Still focusing on each other, they tried to get around her, and she sent them to the ground, hard, before falling herself as Sasuke pulled her leg. Then the three of them lay sprawled in the sand, unmoving, and Naruto felt that the short fight had left him far more exhausted than any spar with Kakashi ever did.

He turned his head, staring at Sasuke, who gazed up at the sun. There was a tingling in his face that Naruto associated with shame. He waited until his breath had calmed, then said, "I'm sorry…didn't mean to, well..."

"It's fine," Sasuke said. His following grunt carried such a tone of conciliation and truthfulness that Naruto had little option save believing it. His posture relaxed. The tension in his extremities dissolved. _That was a fine move_ , he told himself. _Bang up job you did, Uzumaki_.

He asked, "You think Temari heard us?"

"I'd be surprised if she didn't," Sakura said.

"She'll have to stay curious," Sasuke said. To Naruto, "Talk. Then I'll heal us."

And Naruto still did not want to talk about it, not really, but the brawl had eased him and he was spent of anger for the moment. He whispered to them the short version of what had happened, and who gave birth to him—or at least one part of the equation—and that he would ask for answers next time he met the Sandaime. Talking about his father's death did not feel half as liberating as advertised, but he did it, because not talking wouldn't leave him any peace if they ever were to reach Hajim in time.

After Sasuke healed them and made their faces recognizable again, they called Temari back, who was farther away than they first thought, but probably still had heard everything apart from the bit about his parents. She said nothing as they set off, but soon fell once more into conversation with Sakura.

An hour into their renewed journey, Sasuke threw the second stone he had. When Naruto swerved to the side, dodging it, he stamped the sand hard enough for it to spray behind him and into Sasuke's face. His lips lifted into a smile, a small one, as he heard the satisfied yet testy grunt.

* * *

A day after their brawl, deep at night, they closed in on Itami, a small village two miles from Hajim. Fields of Desert Sage, the first uncut ones Sasuke had seen so far, circled the village like a protective palisade. The wind carried the smell of peppermint to them, and they left the desert shrubbery and ocher rocks behind, forging their way through the thick field ahead, silent, each of them.

All four stopped when they heard voices barely a few feet away from them. They froze in their motions, not moving a muscle, and listened.

One voice asked, "Your stacks full?"

"Sure," answered two other voices in unison.

"Let's haul this shit back and get a move on. Konoha's close."

The sound of footsteps cracking as if walking on twigs, and breaking them, grew quieter as time passed. In the distance, Sasuke heard one say, "Better not miss the ships." Then they laughed and soon their laughter, too, became muted as they went farther away.

Sasuke played with the hilt of his sword as he waited another minute, before parting, cautiously, the rows of Desert Sage in front of him. The other side was barren, a field of broken stems laying scattered as if the rebels had tried their hands at being farmers, reaping with large scythes a circle in a radius of miles. Close to the cut down field, the smell of peppermint grew stronger. He panned his gaze around the harvested field. To the north, at the outer fringes, dots of orange light were flickering near the lilac crowns of yet un-chopped Desert Sages.

"We can go around them," said Temari, squatting beside him. "If we circle around the fields we lose half an hour at most."

Enticing, but not what they needed. Having a plan before marching into Hajim would be preferable, and plans were built on information. They had not much of those, so acquiring them in this place seemed as good an idea as any.

"A quick look," Naruto told Temari.

"If they're gathering," Sakura said, "that means they haven't finished rigging the city yet."

"Or they're gathering for a third city," said Sasuke. He took another look through the row of shrubbery. "If we want answers, we should hurry. There aren't many left gathering."

Sakura cast a Genjutsu to hide them, and Sasuke felt the sensation of a smooth blanket covering his head. When he walked on the field, no broken twig made a sound, as if he were walking on cotton. They moved up to the fringe of the village, staying behind a group of three women who were sealing their harvest into scrolls. Following them through the streets they kept to the shadows.

"Last one, finally," one kunoichi said, wiping sweat off her brow. Then the three women talked about the ocean, and how all three came from the inner part of the country, had never seen it before, and now could not enjoy all the water (an amount they had not imagined possible, even) because they were at war. Team Seven kept to the back of a tall, wooden fence on the other side of the street. Sasuke could not quite shake the feeling that they had no idea of what had happened at Ike. Their conversion seemed far too carefree to him.

Then Sasuke heard a new voice, male. "Get to Hajim. Tell Senyaku-sama that I got his message. We should be done in half an hour. Tell him everything went according to plan."

"We're not the last then?"

"Second to last. I'll wait for the last group and go with them. You remember what you have to tell him?"

"Of course."

"Good. Then go and bring our _hero_ his last ingredients. Konoha's an hour away at most."

"To the Poisoneer, it is. See you later."

Then there were footsteps and the voices of the three kunoichi grew quieter until they vanished entirely. Sasuke angled himself so he could peek through a small gap in the fence. The newcomer, tall as Kakashi, with short-cropped black hair and a smile too cheery for this situation by far, leaned against the side of a house. He looked up at the stars, whistling a tune as he played around with a serrated kunai, throwing it and then catching it again.

 _A good target_ , Sasuke thought, observing the man. _High enough in the hierarchy anyway if he's receiving messages directly from Senyaku._

He turned from the gap in the fence to the rest of their group, his mind forming plans how to best subdue that man, when he noticed that Temari looked as if she'd swallowed a scorpion. Beside her, Sakura appeared normal but concerned. Then his gaze got stuck on Naruto. The blond's fists were shaking. His jaw set, he stared straight at the fence, as if he were looking through it, eyes stabbing the man on the other side deader than Zabuza had been when they cut off his head all those years ago. Good times. Most of all, easier times. Sasuke inched closer to his teammate. Naruto bared his teeth now, too, a fine layer of sweat forming on his brow as he tried to restrain himself.

Sasuke signed, 'Who is he?' and when Naruto didn't pay attention, he tapped the same message on his shoulder.

Mechanically Naruto returned the taps, still not looking at anything but the fence. 'Ren.'

Sasuke felt the onset of a terrible headache.

Sakura, 'What do we do?'

'Wait for the last group.'

Sasuke, 'Kill them?'

'Yes.'

'That might alert them,' Sakura signed.

'We're close enough by now. It won't matter.'

They translated their conversation in a universal code that Temari understood as well. She signed nothing back, but the hard swallowing, the uneasy glances, the biting of her lips told a story on their own.

Interrupting his heated stare down with the fence, Naruto tapped on her arm. 'You stay here.'

'Is it really okay?'

'It is.'

Temari bowed her head, and Sasuke thought he could see the relief in her expression even beneath the curls of blond hair.

Five minutes, then the last group came, a squad of three. Sasuke looked through the hole again. Two of them stayed in the background, lighting cigarettes, tobacco smell wafting over. They were arguing with wild gestures, standing each beside two large burlap sacks. At last they played rock-paper-scissors. The loser growled. He unfurled a scroll on the ground and began sealing the sacks. The third shinobi of the group, a fat one, waddled up to Ren. He told him that he would have liked to see the women bathing in the ocean. Ren laughed.

This time Naruto signed first, tapping, 'I'll take Ren and the fat one. You and Sakura the other two.'

Sasuke turned around. Such a division was unacceptable. But, fingers poised for a rebuttal, he stopped mid-sign. Naruto's face was flushed. The veins on his arms and neck corded like rope as he clenched his fists hard enough to leave bloody chips in his skin.

Sasuke felt none of Kyuubi's energy, which seemed a plus. But Naruto still looked more than ready for slaughter, which would occur soon, of course, but it still struck Sasuke as unusual.

Then he remembered that a fat guy also featured prominently in Naruto's torturous adventure, and the urge to smash his head against a wall resurfaced, stronger than before, as did his own anger.

* * *

Naruto held up three fingers to his teammates. Anticipation roaring in his blood, he lowered the first. A tremble went through his body. He shivered. The second finger—his thin smile started to hurt, edges sharp like a razor. He was bouncing on his toes, looking straight at the fence.

The third. Fist complete, he vaulted over the fence. He charged the other side of the street and, muscles coiling and springing, a step delivered him before Ren and Fatso. Ren reacted fast enough to jump aside. Fatso not so much.

Vision clouded, ears pounding, Naruto sunk his fingers into Fatso's greasy hair, taking the head straight to the wall of the house, driving it through the stonework. Blood splattered on his face. He lifted the head a second time, thrust again, repeated. The wall gave in. Part of it crumbled onto his arm and the head in his hand, and letting go of the body he pulled his arm out of the rubble.

Sakura and Sasuke engaged the other surprised shinobi. Naruto turned to Ren, who stared at him as if he could not believe that Naruto stood across him, alive, skin smeared a warm red. When Ren's eyes flickered to the path out of the city, toward Hajim, Naruto stepped hard enough for the ground to crack. He appeared a moment later before Ren, leaned away from a hook, and smashed his fist into the man's face.

On impact the body turned into blades of wind, small but sharp, slicing along his knuckles. Behind him, Ren lashed out with a punch. Naruto's throat felt dry from the rushed breathing as he slipped under it, into Ren's guard, shoving his fist deep into the ribcage, turning, adding force, then reversing direction, slamming the man into the ground with a sound that reverberated inside his skull like the echo of a kettledrum.

The blades of wind returned. But he cared little for their scraping across his fist. What concerned him more was the sudden sense of wrongness in his thought process, turning his mind into a muddy field. He had experienced something similar before in sparring sessions, and that experience saved him as his body geared up, out of instinct and remembrance alone, to dispel the illusion.

The world leapt back to clarity. He sensed his teammates dispatch of their enemies. But where was his own? Naruto found him dashing along the path out of the village, and jumped after him, spitting a human-sized bullet. The water hit the ground twelve feet further along Ren's path. Hand seals changed. Out of the puddle grew a water clone, and even while it formed, Naruto already substituted himself.

In front of Ren once more, he struck out. The man bent under the blow, surprised, and this time had no time to pull his vanishing act. He staggered to the side, formed seals. Naruto stuck to him, hammering home all his rage against the man who had taken the knives to him over and over again.

Ren aborted his attempt at another technique. He deflected the punches, lifted his knee to block a kick, let loose himself, pressing against Naruto. And after all this, when his right arm was suddenly held in a vise-grip, his face showed first total incomprehension, then a horrified understanding.

The grip of the water clone Naruto had substituted himself with earlier tightened. Kunai spinning into his palm, Naruto sunk it hilt-deep into Ren's hand. The man's breath choked. He tried to struggle away, but Naruto's fist struck him clean in the face. The clone let go. As Ren lashed out in desperation, Naruto juked to the left, shifted inside the remains of his guard, took the wrist of the man's good arm, and applied pressure until the bones creaked. The scream traveled for a second, then it cut off abruptly—Sakura's work.

Naruto threw Ren at an intact wall, fissuring it on impact. Then he appeared in front of him, landing a punch to the gut as the man slid down the wall, driving him up again. He stepped back and Ren slumped down, still conscious, if barely. Seeing the man broken before him, the fury humming in his blood thinned and dissipated at last. And as clarity returned to his mind, he recognized that this had been a rage unfueled by the Kyuubi, a rage all his own, and he did not know how to feel about this, just knew that he started to have an inkling about another uncomfortable truth about himself, and that before this war was over they'd all be animals anyway.

To Naruto that seemed what war made of people. Lines shifted, power struggled for more power, and the definition of a monster became much more flexible when the search for justification began.

As his teammates joined him around Ren, he took a deep breath. Temari still hid behind the fence.

Where was the peace in this? How would one even go about finding it? He would like to live in a world where he could, as the priest had called it, act on his conscience. But torn between this world, the Kyuubi, and his own base instincts, serenity seemed hard to come by.

But there was no time for questions right now. He squatted and lifted Ren's head up. The man glared at him, but soon groaned as he was moved around. For about a quarter of a second Naruto felt tempted to tell Ren that, of course, fighting proved much different when one of the fighters was not chained to a post. He suppressed the urge. He had no time for pettiness right now.

"How can we stop the poison?" he said.

"You can't, that's the beauty of it." Ren's split lip twisted in a grimace half agony, half perverse amusement.

"Bullshit," Naruto said. "Who is making this stuff?"

"If you think"—Ren coughed up blood, spattering it on his vest before grinning harder—"If you think I'll tell you anything, then you're…you're just as stupid as I thought you were, when I drove those knives into you, boy."

The reaction caused little surprise. Naruto had not expected much of an answer anyway.

"Sasuke," he said.

The Uchiha crouched beside him, prying open Ren's eyes with his thumb and index finger, Sharingan spinning. Eventually he pulled back with an unsatisfied grunt. Ren's head lolled to the side. He hiccupped, but the sounds soon changed into snickering, then pained laughter.

"Problems?"

"Not getting through," Sasuke said.

Sakura went through a sequence of seals, saying, "Let me help," and putting her fingers against Ren's temples.

Ren moaned under their combined work, but even that proved not enough. Naruto frowned at him. As the leader of a whole camp of rebels, the man might hold the rank of Jōnin. Which could mean anything when it came to resisting their influence, at least for crude methods that showed not an illusion but pried at his very essence. They had little practice in interrogation, and it showed.

"Not so easy, is it?" Ren said, breath rattling. Familiar madness flickered in his expression, and Naruto recognized it far too well as the same that had egged him on to provoke his captures again and again.

Rising from his squat, he sighed and pulled a kunai from the holster around his leg. He had resigned himself that they would not learn anything from him. The sky lightened already, and if they hurried they would be at Hajim in a few minutes.

Sasuke held up his arm. "Don't."

"Mhh?"

"Pain could soften the mental defenses." Sasuke took out a shuriken, gripped Ren's broken wrist, and as the tomoe in his eyes resumed their spinning he slid one edge of the shuriken under the nail bed, pushing farther and farther until reaching the end of the nail. Ren gargled a scream. When Sasuke set up for the second attempt, Naruto gripped his arm.

"How long do you plan to do this?" Naruto said.

"Until it works," Sasuke said, tilting his head. "Or until he dies. Take your pick."

Naruto's fist curled around the kunai in his hand, and in one move he slammed it into Ren's throat, feeling warm blood run past his wrist. They exchanged glances: Naruto found Sakura's full of understanding, and then, a moment later, Sasuke understood as well. He dipped his head in apology, but still said, "We've nothing to go on now."

"We'll find a way." Then, looking at Ren's corpse, "Just not this one. Let's go."

* * *

Team Seven and Temari reached Hajim minutes later, covered by a light Genjutsu that would not be noted easily. They cowered behind a cluster of rocks whose jagged ends reached like lion paws toward the ocean. A seashell cracked under Sakura's sandal. Each rolling wave brought seaweed to the shore before taking it back the same way.

Hajim's walls reached high, but compared to Ike, Shishi, and especially Sukoru, they lost out. But what did the thickness of a wall matter to shinobi? Alone on the stretch directly across from them, Sakura counted a dozen guards and more. In her line of sight only one tower interrupted the gradual line of the battlement. The square shape of the lower half of the tower was topped by a spherical one, as if the architect had changed his mind midway through the building process.

But she could not lose herself in thoughts of architecture. Time mattered, she knew. Before they attacked, Ren had talked about a delivery to the man or woman whom by now—and for a lack of a better term—she thought of only as the Poisoneer. A cautious shinobi, however, would never depend on a single delivery. No, by all measures of logic they had rigged the city from wall to ocean already.

The amount of shinobi on the wall kept her from panicking though. As long as they manned the defenses, no bomb would go off inside the city—or so she hoped.

"Three tasks," Naruto said, peeking past the rocks beside her. "Alarm Danzō, crash their ships, get to the poison."

"Remarkable plan," Sasuke said.

"Bite me."

"We have no idea who's making the bombs," said Sakura. "And I don't think we have the time to kidnap someone and ask." At least not with Sasuke's Sharingan refusing to work as splendidly as they had hoped.

"Temari will do that," Naruto said. "Ren wasn't in Hajim yet, he said so. I don't think anyone knows that you left them at Ike, so you're free to move in the city. Freer than us anyway."

Sakura found that Temari looked decidedly unsure of her own, but then her shoulders straightened. Salvation, or at least the search for it. Or maybe it was not so much salvation as trying to do what was right. But Sakura did not like to think that Temari tried to do right things. And had events not progressed as they did, she might have liked the woman. But they hadn't and she didn't, and what was left was an uneasy truce that brought her little information about what she originally wanted to know, and a lot about Suna she'd never need. Temari had navigated their conversations expertly, leading them away from the topic of Naruto the moment Sakura tried to get more information.

Then Sakura came back to the present, and she remembered that Naruto had named two other conditions for their plan. With Temari out of the picture that left only the option of splitting Team Seven, again. For more there was no time. They couldn't go first to Danzō and then enter the village any more than they could enter the village and hope Danzō would come on his own, riding in on a red-feathered thunderbird with legs to save them. And they would need a lot of saving after they got rid of the ships and the bombs.

Sasuke had noticed the same. His gaze got stuck at her, and then Naruto's did the same, and a dreadful idea slipped into her mind, manifesting itself further the longer her teammates stared at her.

"No," she said. They kept looking. "Why me?" It stung that both chose her immediately, without much thought at all. Just thinking that they did so because she could be a burden made her furious. And why did both agree anyway? They never agreed on anything else.

"Sakura…"

"Seriously, why me?"

"Because we need to get a message to Danzō," Naruto said, avoiding eye-contact now. "If we get discovered, Sasuke and I can hold off more people than you could with one of us."

There it was. She hated hearing it. "I could help you not to get discovered in the first place."

"Sakura," Sasuke said, voice stern, as if he knew exactly what kind of insecurity plagued her, found it inconsequential or nonsensical, or both. "We want to blow up their ships. They will notice us. And if they do we need to get out alive."

She did not want to hear that. No, she absolutely wanted to hear anything but that. She looked at the seashell covered beach, inspecting the red shards of the broken shell jutting out under her sandal. She pushed down her foot, fracturing the shell further. God, why did it always, no matter what she did, come to a point like this?

Then Naruto had his hands on her shoulders. Reluctantly she looked back up. He stared at her with what seemed like all the earnestness he could muster, increased the pressure on her shoulders, remained silent a moment longer, looking, trying to convey something by his eyes alone. "If all three of us could go in there," he said eventually, "we'd do it, you know that. But we can't, and this makes it easier to survive. You're not weak if that's what you're thinking, but your skillset isn't, well, tailored for this, and"—he narrowed his eyes—"and Kakashi-sensei would kick your ass for letting stupid thoughts like that dominate your decisions."

How frighteningly honest. Sakura wanted to growl in response, and so she did. Naruto growled, too, and as both of them went head to head, their foreheads touching, skin drawn taut in anger, he suddenly kissed her. For a split-second she kissed back, then her hand shot out and his head flew to the side.

At any other time, in any other place, she would have pushed him to the ground to continue. But here, like this, at such a time, she felt manipulated most of all. And she disliked that, despite her rejection just now, it worked and had shut her up.

Because the one moment, in all its strangeness, brought the clarity to her mind that yes, indeed, Kakashi would more than cuss her out if he ever were to learn of her initial reaction. Though it also invited a host of other thoughts, which she pushed as far away from her as possible—this mission left little time for it.

 _How dare you spring this on me now_ , she thought, glaring at him and still feeling an echo of his lips.

Turning his face to her again, looking as if little had happened, Naruto said, "You're not weak, Sakura. You're Team Seven, just as much as I am. That's never going to change, no matter what happens." When Sasuke grunted in the background, Naruto looked at him and shrugged. "Well, I guess you're Team Seven, too." Mock-whispering to Sakura, "If anything, he's the weakest link."

She would like to smile at the ease of his transition, but kept herself from doing it. The task ahead threw a big shadow on all of them, and she also did not want to make it quite as easy for him. "Stay alive," she said, staring at Naruto and Sasuke, "you hear me? I'll get Danzō." To Sasuke, "Don't let him do anything stupid."

 _Not before I can repay him for this one._

Sasuke nodded. "Tell the cripple to be ready," he said. "After the ships are gone we need him to move in as fast as he can."

"I will."

* * *

After Sakura had left them, Sasuke contemplated the wall. He had questions, of course, the future cohesiveness of their team required them, but those had to come after dealing with the rebels and their poison.

"How do we get inside?" he said. "The walls are impossible with that many guards."

"Right," Naruto said, "you weren't conscious the last time we did something like this."

"You didn't take the walls into Boeki Tōshi?"

Naruto shook his head. "We swam. I carried your useless hide, and Sakura covered us with an illusion. A sewer later we got you to Aasim."

"Sakura-san isn't here though," Temari said, her attention never wavering from the wall. "And we won't get in by swimming. They'll notice us."

"Not if we go underwater." Naruto licked his finger and held it into the air. "Enough wind. I'll make some light waves that won't stand out. It's not much, but if we dive deep enough they should disturb the water and keep us from being noticed."

That seemed to Sasuke a rather sound plan, which surprised him, although maybe it shouldn't. He squinted into the awakening morning, noticing the silhouette of a guard who stood at the edge of the wall that reached into the water. He activated his Sharingan, noticed the precognition of urine shooting in a wide arc into the ocean, and shut off his eyes again. He suddenly disliked swimming, though admitted to himself that he would not talk about this issue. His pride did not permit him to feel squeamish because one man's urine grew to be a vagrant current.

"I," Temari began, biting her lip, "I can't hold my breath for that long."

"What?" Naruto said.

"It's too far away. I can't dive for that long."

"Why?"

"Because, she lives in a desert," said Sasuke.

Temari nodded. "I visited the coast a few times, learning to swim. I never practiced diving though. Didn't see the use for it."

"Can't you make that wind bubble around your head? You had it on in Ike."

"I can—"

"Great."

"—but if you want it to be quiet, I need to concentrate on it. I can't dive while manipulating the technique to such a degree."

For a moment Sasuke thought this turn of events managed to stump Naruto. Then a gleam entered his eyes, and a bad feeling came over Sasuke. "You won't be diving on your own, then," Naruto said, and Sasuke had an inkling where the blond was going with this. He let go off the hilt of his sword, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"You do it," he said.

"Sorry, Sasuke," said Naruto, "but I can't. I need all my concentration for breathing, diving, and wave-control." He unfurled a scroll clipped to his vest, which they now wore again, since, after all this effort, it would be moronic to get killed by friendly fire during the siege. Pushing chakra into a seal, he unsealed a rope.

"I don't think I understand," Temari said. "How is this going to help us?"

"It'll forge a connection," said Naruto.

Sasuke looked at the blond woman with a healthy dose of wariness. This could turn out to be a rather horrible idea. But under the cover of the rocks, Naruto led them to the water until it lapped at their ankles.

"Hope you're a good swimmer," he said.

Sasuke found himself to be a good anything, and so he nodded, hoping to convey with that gesture all the annoyance he felt at this particular plan. Or the plan's creator. In all possibility, both. He had become better at recognizing the impending insanity. Now if only he would find ways to avert it.

Naruto went around him, took Temari by the arm, who looked at him like he was the strangest creature she had seen in a long time—there was something else in that gaze, too, but Sasuke didn't care to identify it—and he pressed her against Sasuke. Sasuke felt her breasts push against his back, then Naruto murmured something, turned her around, and Sasuke felt her hair tickle his neck.

"That's better," said Naruto to Temari. "Free hand movement for you that way."

Sasuke had serious reservations. Why was there an enemy kunoichi at his back? Did Naruto even know how easy it would be to slip a knife between his ribs now? Stupid idiot with his stupid plans and stupid executions of said plans.

Naruto put the rope loosely around Temari's belly, then around Sasuke's, and finally looped it a few times until only enough rope for a knot was left.

"Now we can go," Naruto said, though he was quieter now. As if only at this point did he remember how important their success actually was for the survival of their friends. And there was _still_ an enemy kunoichi at Sasuke's back.

"This is crazy," Temari said.

"Just keep breathing."

With those words, Naruto led the makeshift sandwich farther into the water. When they were almost submerged, he tugged a last time at the rope, found it tight enough, gave a thumbs up, and dove. A subtle thrum of chakra, barely noticeable, went out from him. The waves responded, moving sharply to his will it seemed, creating a feeling of unrest in the water that only to the incredibly observant would seem not in tune with the wind.

Once Temari had created the bubble, keeping it as silent as possible, Sasuke dove as well, feeling quickly the difficulty of having to swim for two people. He would find a way to pay back Naruto. Water torture sounded rather appropriate—he heard Kiri had a special expertise in this field he could copy.

While he ferried Temari into the port, keeping close to Naruto, his heels hit her a few times, and he relished in the fact that she could not complain about it right now. A last act of pettiness before the struggle for survival began.

Eventually he reached their destination, tapping the hull of a ship with his hand. The first of many in the port. From the way the hulls had swayed up and down due to the waves, there were at least twenty ships anchored in Hajim.

He clung to the protruding wooden planks of the ship while Naruto took a kunai and sliced through the rope. Freed at last, Sasuke and Temari ceased to be an entity of bound flesh that looked like salted meat, cured and hung from the ceiling of a slaughterhouse.

"This is it," Naruto whispered to her. "You know what to do?"

"I'll find him," she said.

"We're counting on you."

She nodded, looked at both of them for a long moment, then climbed around the ship and went to the port, waiting for a patrol to pass before walking—as if she had always belonged there—onto the dock and into the city.

"You trust her?" said Sasuke.

"Kind of, but no, not really."

 _How reassuring that you bound her to my back_ , Sasuke thought. "Why did you give her that part of the plan then? The Poisoneer is the key pin."

"Is it? Beside the fact that she's the only one with even a slight chance to find the guy, I figure they won't blow this city up if they're still in it."

"And without ships shinobi can't leave?"

"At least not the conventional way. They could still walk on water. But that's the only way I could think of making this work somehow. For better or worse we're stuck trusting Temari. Let's hope Sakura comes through."

"She will," Sasuke said. _And_ , he thought, _after what you did, she'll probably cane Danzō with his own walking aid if he refuses_.

They climbed the back of the empty ship, ceasing their whispering, and Naruto snuck around, placing three extra-sized exploding tags at vital points. From ship to ship they went, placing, hiding, listening to enemy shinobi rolling barrels along the dock. They had a madness about them that seemed perfectly natural in this situation. As if all this war had done was lead to this point, where their insanity became the norm, and their conscience calibrated itself toward the opposite of what they believed in when they first became shinobi.

After tagging the third ship, and on their way to the fourth, Naruto whispered, "I didn't plan on that."

Sasuke had a fair idea what he was talking about. "On what?"

"Kissing Sakura."

"You shut her up with that. She was falling apart."

Naruto placed a tag on the hull. "It worked surprisingly well." He paused. "I meant it. Or I think I do. But I'm not sure. It was…the moment I guess. I don't know."

Sasuke let him talk and followed, keeping an eye out for patrols and shushing him when those he saw came closer. If this helped Naruto to get it off his chest before they had to measure up against an army of rebels, he would listen to this emotional drivel. He had no intention of having this discussion come up while they fought for their lives.

"And Temari was there," Naruto continued, when a patrol had passed the ship. "That was strange."

"Hn."

They had moved on from the current ship, in silence again, and were on their way to the next, when the slaps of sandals, slightly wet, hitting the floor of the docks reverberated. It was an unruly kind of sound, disturbing the quiet but precise working noises the rebels were producing. _Tap-Tap-Tap_.

Clinging to the back of a ship, Naruto and Sasuke looked at each other. On a nod, Naruto edged around the ship to get a better view. Sasuke let himself fall a few inches, copying the motion below Naruto. The noise grew louder. Then a shinobi came into view. He ran toward a wooden post at the middle of the dock, attached to which hung a bell.

The man started tolling the bell with all his might, and a second later the dock dissolved into full mayhem, as rebels moved at a rapid pace from ship to ship.

Neither Sasuke nor Naruto dared to speak again.

'You think this is about us?'

Sasuke, 'Maybe Danzō's coming.'

Sasuke listened to the erratic pounding of feet on the wooden decks and the dock.

'Temari could have betrayed us,' Naruto signed.

'You think? Sasuke stared at Naruto, cursing himself for not killing that woman when he had the chance.

'We can't be sure,' Naruto signed.

'At this point I think we can—'

Sasuke stopped abruptly. Something came their way, and it came fast. He tried to warn Naruto, but by then the signature had already arrived. On the water beneath he noticed, for the fraction of a second, a flicker. Then the rebel came up next to Naruto, whipping around his leg. Naruto caught the brunt of the kick to the face, twirled around his axis, and shot into the depth of the water.

 _Little bulk, good speed_ , Sasuke thought as he jumped down from the protrusion of the ship he clung to. Taijutsu expert. Possibly a Jōnin. He raced atop the water to the nearest ship, vaulted aboard, ran the length to the other side. There he leapt over to the next vessel, hearing an explosion roar behind him. All the ships they had rigged so far went up in a blaze.

Shards of wood rained down on Sasuke as he ran. The Jōnin followed, the shinobi on the docks now narrowing in on him, too, trying to cut off his escape over the ships. On his way to the next ship in the row—he had climbed onto a mast now, and was jumping from pole to pole, shuriken whizzing past him as the Jōnin shouted orders not to damage the ships—Naruto broke through the water surface and joined him on his mad dash.

The hunt was on and they hadn't even destroyed more than five ships in total. Sasuke hoped that at least the explosion had been big enough to alarm Sakura and Danzō. With such an amount of shinobi on the docks, this would get ugly fast.

They ran side-by-side, jumped at the same time, landed on the same mast, and if Sasuke knew about his own facial tics, they wore the same expression that lay somewhere between the existential fear for their lives and a dash of mad hilarity, truly insane hilarity actually, that had accompanied each of their fights so far.

As they cleared another ship, Naruto shouted, "You trust me?"

Sasuke slid down a wet rope, shouting back, "No."

"Good. Keep them off me."

Naruto lobbed the bundle of remaining explosive tags at him. Sasuke caught them, watching Naruto swerve to the side and away from him, and for the quarter of a second he indulged in the futile thought, _But I said no_. Then the other shinobi were on him again, and he dodged under a flurry of punches as the Jōnin caught up with him.

Deflecting the attacks, Sasuke's eyes flickered around the battlefield. Keeping them off Naruto meant becoming the bigger, more important target. He'd like to say that this was already the case, but as there were still some shinobi following Naruto he obviously had to get more attention.

He leaned away to avoid a kick to his face, Sharingan spinning into existence. And with a frightening precision he ducked under the follow-up punch, sliding forward, faking right, seeing that the Jōnin moved left, then making his fake into reality and crashing his palm into the man's chin, lifting him up and away from himself.

Sensing more rebels behind him, he let the bundle of tags fall to the ground and hurried past his new attackers—pushing one into the other as he passed. He ran the whole length of the ship, tomoe spinning as he avoided incoming lethal hits. In one jump he cleared the front of the ship and landed on the docks. A lot of enemies were there, too. He grinned at them, a savage thing, all teeth. Then his finger formed the sign of the rat, and in one earth-shattering explosion, the ship behind him transformed into a ball of searing destruction, the power of about thirty seals behind it.

If Sakura hadn't noticed the explosions before, she definitely would noticed this one.

The rebels looked at the spear of flame lancing into the sky, higher than their walls by far. Naruto's pursuers did the same. Then their eyes fell on him. Sasuke pushed through hand seals at a breakneck pace.

Two of his fireballs made it to the sails of ship seven and eight. That reserved him their sole attention, and while strategically dubious, even Naruto's pursuer let up on him, ranking the flamethrower burning their ships a higher risk. Sasuke weaved between attacks as more shinobi came close, feeling the strain of concentrating on so many things at once. He noticed himself become sloppier as the fight wore on.

 _Your plan better work_ , he thought, diverting an attack. He turned, kicked a rebel into another one, then let himself fall as a blade cut the air above him. Coming up again, he lashed out and struck the man a blow. He dodged a wind bullet, answered with a brace of shuriken, flipped back from another attack, leaned left, smashed his elbow into a woman's face, continued.

Then he felt a signature that, even to his meager sensing, blew the others out of the water. Next he saw a face he recognized from the Daimyo's palace. A fist shattered his guard. He shot back, crashing through the wall of a house.

His bones protested as he extracted himself from the house, jumping out onto the docks again, where Senyaku waited on him.

 _Hurry_. That was all he thought, all he could think of, as Senyaku's attacks slammed into his guards with the force of a battering ram, each attack with enough power to elicit an internal wince. Then, seamlessly, came the Genjutsu, adding another burden to his already taxed Sharingan.

Wherever Sasuke was, Senyaku was too, and faster at that. Whenever Sasuke feigned a direction, the rebel leader seemed to have read his mind. If Sasuke juked, pushed himself away, following his attack up with a fireball, Senyaku's fist slithered through the guard, past the perception of the Sharingan. The fireball went awry as wind swept Sasuke off his feet. And just as he lay on the ground, Senyaku strolling up to him, and he was thinking that this was possibly the worst day of his life, a seething rage mingling with disappointment and quite a bit of madness inside him, he heard Naruto's voice rise above the water.

First there came a rumbling. A deep sound as though inside the ocean a creature moved about. Then a wave lifted the ship nearest to Naruto as the sea level in the port rose. A wave, but not the kind Sasuke had envisioned. Naruto needed concentration for this?

But the wave grew rapidly—in size, in form, in potential. The lone ship sailed on it, its flag now reaching past the highest point of Hajim, and again Naruto's voice resounded. With a shuddering lurch the wave reached, with each inch it took, for the ships anchored to the harbor. One by one they were gripped, and one by one they joined their fellow vessels on the crest of the wave—until, at last, all ships were onboard, gathered up in a mad cluster of wood. Then the wave collapsed. And as the tray of water was pulled out under them, the ships began tumbling into every direction. They crashed into the walls choking off the port, smashed into the houses nearest to the docks. All though left nothing but splinters and ruins in their wake.

For a moment, Sasuke saw Senyaku's face full of awe—not the good kind of awe, though. Then the lines of anger appeared, redrew themselves, deeper than before. The man's head swiveled to Naruto, who waved at him, hollering obscenities.

Sasuke used that time to form a small, seal-less fireball in his mouth. When Senyaku looked back to him, he spat the fireball at the man. He rolled backward into a solid handstand, tipped perilously to the side as he avoided a barrage of shuriken, then leaped back, arriving in a crouch next to Naruto.

"What now?" Sasuke asked as Senyaku ran toward them, a furious expression on his face and a substantial amount of rebels behind him.

Naruto's answer amounted to nothing but silence. And as Senyaku closed in, with what seemed to be half of Hajim, Sasuke braced for impact just before they slammed into them.

* * *

 **AN:** That's it folks. That was a long overdue meeting between Ren an Naruto. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed yourself. Thanks for reading.


	19. Scattered V

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

 **AN:** Second to last chapter, folks.

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Scattered V**

* * *

" _How could we rejoice in victory and delight in the slaughter of men?"_

* * *

Naruto knew little of how to kneel before another person. He was as unaccustomed to this position as Sasuke seemed to be, and while the rebels had not bound his hands, he still could not move by much. Steel, cold to the touch, pushed against the base of his neck. Opposite of him, Senyaku smiled: a nasty thing, all malice and elation over said malice, a smile that loved itself. It looked strange in a way, however, though Naruto could not put his finger on the reason.

The rebel behind Naruto pushed his head down. Not that it changed anything. Naruto cared for little else than glaring at the man across him who had led these fanatics through two years of bloodshed in the desert, culminating in the madness that had been Ike, that might become Hajim for all they knew.

"I've seen you before," Senyaku said to Sasuke, a solid third of his face cratered like the surface of the moon. Residual wounds of a large fire, where no hair would grow again. "I'm honestly surprised you survived this long, boy."

He earned himself a grunt filled with contempt. Then the thick hand of the rebel pressed against Sasuke's head, gripping a fistful of black hair. A moment of murderous rage flared up inside Naruto. Subjugated by his will, however, it ebbed away when Sasuke ceased resisting the motion, lowering his head on his own.

Senyaku squatted in front of Naruto, gray eyes boring into blue. "You destroyed our ships."

"My bad. Just wanted to clean the city."

The man struck him a blow, then, and Naruto reeled back from the hit, a slice along his neck where the kunai had been.

"I didn't have the pleasure of meeting you before," said Senyaku, now holding Naruto's chin in a vise-grip. There was something mechanical to the way he spoke: a cruelty that did not wholly fit his countenance, as if the muscles that formed his expressions fell short of finishing the job. "You do look like someone I had described to me. You are not, by chance, blessed with a bloodline?"

Metal pierced skin. Pain all the way up his arm, and after Naruto glanced at the kunai sticking in his flesh, he spat a wad of saliva at Senyaku and ignored the scream scraping at the inside of his throat. The glob landed in the middle of the Jōnin's face. Next Naruto knew, his head hit the ground. Hurt; a white hot pulse in his body, a second kunai sliding past his nose; blood pooled on the pavement of the dock, the pain traveling down his face, the blood right next to his eyes.

And while the rebel pulled him back into a kneeling position, Naruto harbored no illusion about the reason for this pain. Temari had betrayed them. _If you even can betray someone when you weren't on their side in the first place_. He tasted iron and flattened his lips as Senyaku rose to address his men. Danzō had been right. In this country, they were the enemy—to everyone.

He should have killed that woman, should have destroyed her a dozen times over—in that dust storm, in the hut, when they met at Ike. Why had she sold them out? But that was a silly question. Their severed heads would gain her the acceptance of her comrades; their unwilling sacrifice would be the admission fee back into their ranks. They, all of them, were shinobi first and friends second, if they had ever been friends at all...

It was ridiculous to have expected something else and that thought only made him glare harder at the rebels and that misbegotten whoreson in front of him because now his fear—the notion that the world really was this festering cesspit—was made real once more; he had thought it could be different and again it wasn't, just like every other time when he had allowed himself, for a moment, a brief one always but existing (and that was all that mattered), to think that maybe things weren't so bad after all, that just like the sun went up and down, life moved just the same.

Then there was an explosion at the walls of Hajim and, thunder in his ears, Naruto jerked his head around to the cloud of dust that went up north of him. The kunai at his neck drilled into his flesh because the wielder was incompetent and Naruto stopped quickly as he felt the thickness of his blood run down the base of his neck.

"Konoha," said Senyaku, never losing his smile. Naruto's heartbeat slowed to a sluggish rhythm and he felt his fingers cold and chilled, even as they should be warm from the steadily rising sun. When Konoha came, it would bring Sakura with her. And in this moment, still plagued by a last tenacious sliver of unwillingness to accept that Temari had given them up, but also unable to avoid the truth of their capture, he prayed that Sakura marched not among this army, wished that the whole army would just turn and leave, no matter what happened to him and Sasuke. Two lives should not be worth hundreds.

"Is everything ready?"

Looking to whom Senyaku was speaking Naruto noticed a black earpiece, a static buzz coming from the other end.

"Can you hear me?" Senyaku said. "Are we good to go?"

Then came a voice: "I'm almost done. The whole front part is wired and sealed."

Senyaku hummed in satisfaction. Again, Naruto found that it seemed false, before he decided that it did not matter and closed his eyes, thinking, _God, please let them have a method to deal with this. If they depend on us disabling the poison, we killed them all._

"You are sure you want to do this?" Senyaku spoke into the earpiece.

Naruto felt a surge of anger at the question. "As if you're giving a choice to whoever—"

Senyaku's boot crashed into his face, throwing him on the side.

From the earpiece came a giggle wrapped in static noise. "Everything to kill them, eh?"

"That's right," Senyaku said. Then, almost august, "You'll be remembered for this, I promise."

"Remember me, forget me—I don't care. All I need is their death." A short pause. "I'll blast myself in two minutes. Get out by then."

"Very well."

Senyaku tapped the button on the earpiece and the line died. He turned to his assembled troops. "Our friend will blow up everything save the port; be ready. Once the bomb goes off, we'll water-walk past the docks and toward the Land of River. From there, we move straight for Konoha." He crushed a wooden plank under his left foot. "They won't see us coming."

Men and women around them cheered, though Naruto detected little madness in their eyes, seeing none of the fanaticism he thought he'd find.

Senyaku grabbed Naruto's hair and pulled his head to eye level. "Before I send you two to hell, I want you to see what's going to happen. We've that much time."

He made sure both Naruto and Sasuke were looking directly at the city. "You got friends in that army?" he asked them. "I hope you do. There's nothing quite like seeing them die, don't you think?" His voice had become a whisper. "You know that feeling well, just from the other side, right? At least I believe Konoha was just as happy to see my friends die that day." For a moment, the half-reached appearance of madness slid off Senyaku. He looked at them, really looked, and Naruto was struck with the cudgel of his hatred, the entirety of it, enlarged by each action Konoha had taken against this country, deserved or not. And still there was a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, and unwillingness—that flared momentarily in those eyes, before the face of madness reassembled itself, piece by piece, drowning out all else.

"You brought this on yourself, Konoha. You sent them to the Shinigami, and now I'll make sure you'll suffer the same. And I'll keep sending you bastards that way until nothing's left to remind me of you."

* * *

At the other end of the line, the Poisoneer plucked the earpiece out of his ear and threw it to the ground without care. _I won't need this anymore_ , he thought, shuffling through the maze of scrolls he had spread on the floor.

A few days ago this cellar still belonged to a merchant of fine sake, which explained the size of it. At the moment though, the shelves holding the bottles of liquor lay in a heap at one of the gates leading into the city. He had no delusions about the power of some broken shelves to stop shinobi, but it made for a nice look, conveying a healthy 'here we are, and we are here to stay and to fight, and to do everything in our power to make sure you won't get into this city.' It all came down to appearance in this gambit. The look of a lively and defended city, even if only by civilians, was the crux. In this the enemy would see danger, without ever expecting the blow that a cloud of yellow could strike them.

He felt a strange constriction in his heart, a momentary stupor of the mind, the aftermath of an activity—he knew not which—that exhausted him. Then, gathering his bearings, the Poisoneer went past a dozen tables lining the wall, all equipped with the necessary machinery to distill the Yellow Desert Bloom. The laboratory had stopped working a few minutes ago, when he had finished up the last batch of poison before sealing it in the scroll responsible for the very house he stood in.

To make a toxin so deadly, so insidious in how it escapes the efforts of medicine, and all that from the baseline of a pesticide—the man who taught him had been a monster, verifiably and in every regard. That after Ike he had turned tail without notice had made matters difficult. This poison, now created after his blueprint but without assistance, paled in comparison. Soon, however, that would not matter anymore—at this moment it concerned only his drive for perfection, after all.

The Poisoneer halted at a metal gurney at the far side of the room. A scroll lay on it, and from its center went several lines of ink, connecting to the other scrolls in the room. He caressed this matrix scroll with a finger, careful not to smudge the lines. Yes, the intricacy and the refinement was gone, but the poison kept its deadly quality, and that would suffice in the larger scheme of things.

 _It is okay_ , he told himself. _Konoha is here already and I do not have to blow up the whole city, just two thirds of it. The work I did will be plenty enough, and they will all die as the result._

He did not want to die. Who'd want that anyway? And while he kept smiling under the thick cowl, his legs kept shaking with each step. The knowledge of his demise coming closer, each second presented him with a new unpleasant thought. But there existed goals worthier than life, a principle he agreed with, and to reach those he'd give his place in the living world at any time, no matter how often it was asked.

He glanced at the clock hanging above the gurney. He had made sure it worked properly—exact and correct on the second. _They will all die_ , he thought. _And I will die with them, and I will be happy afterward. Happier than before in any case, since they will all be dead. Are you watching me, father? I think you would like what I do now. You never had any love for Konoha either._

He hoped the man who had helped him at Ike would die soon, too. Running away at a time like this was shameful and weak.

The finger of the clock ticked onward, a steady circle, and his fingers twitched nervously first in the same rhythm, then detached from it. _Thirty seconds now_ , he thought. _In thirty seconds I will see mother and you again. Sister will come later. Don't worry, father. She will be fine. She is stronger than me. Always been that way, you know that. And he, too, wherever he is. There was never anyone stronger than him anyway._

And he laughed at that last thought, which was so true, and as the clock kept ticking— _twenty seconds; I will kill them any moment now_ —his laughter became sobbing, and soon changed between the two as though he could not be sure himself whether to be happy, fulfilling his duty (but to whom?), or sad, because his life, which had been far too short, would now come to an abrupt end.

Though didn't everyone say their life's too short? The sluggishness of mind returned, and he laughed again, thinking, _I will die a cliché_ , and for a man near the gate of death, he found a remarkable amount of humor in this.

He put his right hand on the circle in the middle of the matrix scroll. It trembled, but he would not let it escape now.

"Kill whoever's left, Senyaku-sama," he said to the empty room. "Do me that favor, and I won't regret giving you this life. It's worth a lot, you know? It's the only one I got."

Then the clock rang and the Poisoneer began his work. Hand tight on the seal, he called his chakra. The line to the left of the matrix lit up in green; the connection to the first scroll sizzled. And he recognized the sensation inside him from a dozen trial runs of smaller scope: a crawling build up until the pressure became unbearable, and then a quick release, as if the vessels in his body swelled with the poison itself, though in the final burst bringing not death but ecstasy surging through his blood.

His perception changed; time moved slower. Again the valves in his body pumped chakra. The next line illuminated his face, light crawling down the gurney toward the second scroll.

One district of Hajim was gone already. The second soon would go with it, hand in hand, like a pair of children playing in the gardens of Death.

He followed the line with his eyes until he could follow it no more; then he looked at his hands again. He felt a sudden and foreign elation at this act of mass-murder, and then shame at his elation, anger at his shame for this was something that must be done, and horror that he was truly doing it, and lastly fortitude as he needed to continue and his head felt as though it would burst any minute with all these disparate emotions.

 _Soon, father_ , he thought. _Soon I will be with you and mother_.

The seal generated heat, a whole room of it pressing against him from all sides. The second scroll on the floor was done; another district of Hajim went with it, so did a thousand souls or more.

He was working on the third scroll when there was a booming sound in the corridor leading to the cellar. He heard metal clash with stone, then a voice, another boom. The third district went to Odaya's palace. There were still scrolls to activate. He pushed his chakra: the fourth and fifth district exploded—those were the ones closest to Konoha's army, nearest to the walls. Those were the ones that would send them all to hell.

The door behind him screeched as it was ripped out of its hinges. He heard it clang on the floor as it tumbled to the ground, sliding into the room and shoving the remaining scrolls away by accident.

 _No._ _No! I need more. But this is enough to kill Konoha anyway. Enough, enough, enough. Yes, enough! It will have been enough. It must be enough. It must. It must!_

Footsteps behind him. But he did not turn, wanting more—safe was safe. He pushed his chakra into the matrix scroll, pushed and pushed, reached deep inside him, pushed more. The connection to the scrolls had been severed, but still he hoped that a miracle would arrive, lighting those last scrolls as well. He felt a wetness at his eyes, his vision blurry now. The tears spilled onto the scroll, and he heard a sob, and wondered, _Why am I crying?_

Fingers dug into his shoulder, turning him around with force.

* * *

She stood feeling numb, left hand on his shoulder, the weight of her fan in the right. Tears had smudged the paint on his face, leaving smears of violet all across his cheeks. He smelled of peppermint, chemicals, and faintly of urine.

And seeing him like this, finding Kankuro at last and in such a condition, she cried, for what else was left?

His mouth formed her name over and over, until speech found him again. "Temari?" he said, gripping her arms with both hands, frantic, eyes darting to and fro. "What are you doing here? Out. Out!" His voice rose to a panicked shout. He leaned in closer, breathing peppermint onto her face. "You need to leave! Now! Out!"

"You're my brother." That was all she could say, because the maniacal gleam in his eyes, the spark of insanity, and in the face of her brother no less, took away all rational thought in one swipe. Once, he had been laughing at silly puns, wasting no time on matters of national concern. He ate bread with her on Suna's roofs; pulled up the skirts of women passing by, with his ability as a puppeteer; listened to her plot summary of just another play, then crafted a mask of her favorite character, which looked so deformed it was hardly recognizable, but what had that mattered back then? _Now_ it mattered, because it seemed so far away, belonging to another life altogether.

Kankuro smiled at her, a sad smile full of longing and remembrance and all the things that siblings shared among themselves. "I…Thank you for coming for me, Temari." His voice was soothing and gentle. "But you must go now. You can't save me anymore—this whole gig won't work if I don't go with it." Then, a flash of something, and the words, spoken with complete conviction: "It must be done."

"But…" She tried to say more, but there they were again, the same words: "You're my brother."

And Kankuro was still crying, but otherwise calm. The pressure on her arms became more insistent. "I know," he said, blinking. "And we'll see each other again one day in Odaya's palace, I promise." Then, looking at the scrolls lying on the floor in disorder, "Go now! Leave! I'll reset this to finish these Konoha bastards. You got that long to get to the port—it's doable if you use your wind shield. Now go! Temari!"

"You're my brother," she said through hiccups, barely audible, as faces, pallid purple, yellow-eyed with red cataracts, pushed against the confines of her mind, of children, of the elderly, of married couples, of singles, of men, women, priests, musicians, merchants, Ike, Suna, Wind Country.

And at last, as his eyes swerved to the scrolls again, Temari's shock wore down enough for the numbness in her mind to fade. Thousands. Thousands! He couldn't have—He wasn't right now—

"Temari," he said, turning to the scrolls, intent on continuing, "you gotta leave now. I can't finish with you still here."

Then it broke through the surface, clawing its way past her heart and out of her body. Time seemed to still as his voice faded and the buzzing noise in her head grew louder, the beat of her blood pounding in her nose, pulsing under her tongue, as if the man behind the drum was out of control, faster, faster, beating louder as she jerked her left arm out of his grip, held the fan tighter. The noise was dazzling now, and overwhelming, and she saw his lips move, saying her name over and over again like before, but no sounds reached her save the ones in her own mind and she thought she was going crazy a thousand times over.

Then she smashed the fan against his head.

She screamed at him no coherent words as he tumbled and fell to the floor. His head hit the stonework with a dull thud that echoed like a thunderclap in her ear, cracking her skull and mind with it. Blood pooled around his head, and as if a knife had severed tendons from bones, she could not stand anymore and sunk to the ground in a lurch, slouching over his body.

"Kankuro!" she screamed into his cat suit, clenching her fists and hammering away, but no one heard her in the cellar.

* * *

Where Sasuke's knees touched the ground, the wet stonework of the docks soaked through the fabric of his pants. From behind him came the stench of sweat, the Chūnin holding him down leaning in far too close.

Sasuke had kept his silence while Naruto talked with Senyaku, and he kept his silence now, as they were forced to watch the city from the docks. Konoha neared, bringing with each step a rumble, dust and smoke, the shattering drone of a horn, a cacophony of approaching violence at the horizon.

Suddenly the world shuddered. Like blossoms cloaked in yellow petals, green arose over the western district of the city, behind it a roar of desperation unuttered, a multitude of cries unvoiced. Flowers stretched toward the sun in spires, then bloomed. Death followed: first south, then the center of Hajim, north of the center, at last near the walls.

The grip of the Chūnin holding Sasuke slackened, and Sasuke bowed his head at the sight before him. The poison's name was well-deserved, he thought, eying the uneven stones under him.

Then the chain of explosions stopped. Just the distant rumble remained, now a bit louder.

"Why is it stopping?" Senyaku said, staring at the city. "Never mind. This should be more than enough. Kill them. We're moving out."

The Chūnin moved.

Sasuke looked to the side. His glance meeting Naruto's, he found that, like always, they understood each other to a frightening degree. The poison had struck. Neither knew if Sakura had reached Danzō in time, or if Danzō had prepared a counter measure, or if the army would just stop to deal with the crisis leaving them at Senyaku's questionable mercy. No matter the answer, however, right now they had not many options left to them—one, to be specific, and Sasuke had recognized the acceptance of that fact in his blond teammate as well.

When the tip of the kunai left the base of his neck for the thrust, Sasuke jerked his head away, hitting the man behind him in the thighs. Naruto accepted a slice from the kunai as the price for twirling himself into a hurricane of flying feet.

They moved to fight, the rebels following suit, trying to restrain them. Before that last stand could go far though, a blast of wind terrifying in size and strength swept through the city, howling and tearing at their frames. Sasuke lost balance and fell on his side, rolled himself to the left and then into an upright position. The wind, a gale of such monstrosity that the sound seemed deafening even this far away, pushed against the clouds of poison. The pressure blasted the airborne toxin over the roofs, past the walls, then out into the desert. Eventually the wind would have to dissipate and scatter, but that did not happen. The wind just kept moving, Death ensnared in its grasp.

S-Rank. That had been an S-Rank Futon Jutsu. There was no other explanation. He knew of no other wind techniques which could cover a whole city. Sasuke looked at Senyaku and found his expression to be a mix of fury and relief, the last part suppressed but still somewhat visible.

Sasuke narrowed his stance, tightened his guard and surveyed his enemies. That technique had changed everything. Now surviving instead of wanton destruction became the priority again.

The rumble that had closed in on them steadily stopped abruptly, before resuming even louder than before. He could not help the relief at hearing the noise so close. Stalling it seemed was not necessary anymore. The row of houses near the docks crumbled, bringing into his sight an avalanche of sand thrice as wide as Konoha's major thoroughfare.

The new Kazekage, for he wore the traditional blue-lined garments, rode into the harbor on a behemoth of sand, cloak flaring behind him. Shinobi in ochre vests crouched around him, their suna insignias gleaming in the sun. But Sasuke paid neither Gaara nor his troops much attention. His eyes stayed fixed on the only person standing upright beside Gaara.

* * *

Riding in on a wave of sand, Sakura showed a fierce grin at seeing both Sasuke and Naruto still alive. Injured, but breathing. Excitement tingled in her spine, changing place every so often with relief. She was the savior this time, and all the books she had ever read about battles saved at the last minute fell short of this moment.

"It's him!" she heard the rebels shout. They pointed at the wave, at Gaara, the monster of their nightmares.

"Over the water!" Senyaku bellowed. "Run!"

The cluster of shinobi set off, but that would not save them now. Coming in behind Gaara was Konoha, and it was a terrible anger that the Leaf brought, lined by the knowledge of what had happened at Ike to Her people, and here almost as well.

Senyaku ran but Sakura saw Naruto throw himself into his path and kick at his legs. The Jōnin didn't change course, wasted no thought at swerving to the side and evading. He barreled forward, knowing that Naruto alone could not stop him from reaching the water; he slammed his fist against Naruto and just as he was free of him, Sasuke's lance of fire blocked the way.

White-flamed fire like this he could not run through, and as Sakura leapt off the wave of sand, she noticed that Senyaku turned to try for another way even though all around him mayhem occurred. Most rebels had stopped running once they noticed the futility of it. They drew their weapons, lowered themselves into their stances and waited for the inevitable clash.

Then she was there, leg high, the ax-kick hitting right at his arm while Senyaku diverted Naruto's incoming punch with a deft swipe of his other hand. Beside them, Gaara's Genin jumped into the fight, Konoha following, and then Gaara himself joined the fray.

The shouts around them changed from angry to fearful, and then to defiant and blistering with hate; and their faces were set with the madness of war, their hearts rent by looking their fellow shinobi in the face and finding familiarity; and there was an uproar of bloodshed that sent red up in large spurts, fountains of it, everywhere, and there could be no better water on which to feed death.

Senyaku tried to sink a kunai in Sakura's gut and lashed out with a sharp strike to follow up after she dodged. Metal split the air above her. She deepened her crouch, rolled to the side for more space, then moved up into a better position. When she came up again Senyaku was nowhere near.

Sakura looked over the docks for him, but soon had to duck under an attack from a rebel. The woman chased the first punch with a knee thrust to her face that she guarded against. And like a machine geared only for this work, the knife slid in her palm, open, waiting, and she stuck it as easily between the woman's ribs as she would slice ham during breakfast. She tugged at the knife, shifted, carved her opponent up from navel to chest. A fountain of blood sprayed her face, but accustomed to the feeling she turned around, paying it no further attention.

When the next opponent came, Naruto and Sasuke were already with her. The three slid around one another seamlessly, slashing and thrusting, parrying and dodging, bringing death on every inch they moved. Her mind settled in a haze as they waded through blood, and that, more than anything, scared the small part of her that had not yet succumbed to the utterly mindless slaughter. But she could not let herself be swept away by these feelings right now. This was a war. These were her enemies. And for better or worse she would make sure that her team survived.

She palmed a fist away and used the other hand, a knife flat on it, to spear a man's gullet. The enemy sunk to the ground, uttering an ugly gargle. "You good?" she called out to Naruto, stomping her heel on the ground. One of the rebels surrounding Sasuke stumbled as a small hole opened up beneath him.

"Been better," Naruto called back. He jumped, and at the apex of his jump held the tiger sign. Water bullets thick as a wrist barraged the pavement of the docks, ripping into the foundation and blasting precise and lethal holes into a pair of shinobi. "Where's Senyaku?" he asked, landing in a crouch.

"No idea," she said, wheeling on the spot. Another knife, another victim. There were blood, guts, and the stench of shit and iron, which by now rang synonymous with death dealt fresh.

Then the heat of a fireball warmed the left side of her face. It went past her in a growling flame, impacted on the ground with an outcry of rage, and was followed by the actual cries of the shinobi it incinerated.

"He's with Gaara," Sasuke said, landing next to her.

"Let's help him."

Naruto shot past them and twirled himself into a kick that sent the rebel blocking his path crashing into a stack of barrels, where the man evaporated in smoke. No time to consider the clone further, Sakura joined them on the dash up to Gaara. They sped through the throngs of people, multiplied by an insane amount of clones on either side, killing or shoving away everyone blocking their way.

If the fight had been thick at the outer reaches of the dock, however, it resembled an impenetrable wall the closer they came to the center. Sakura's illusion made the kunoichi before her step awkwardly to the side, directly into a hole opening up under her right foot. An instant later she died like all the others.

The stench was overwhelming now at the dock, which first had been wet from water, and now was slick with blood. Around her all she heard was the sound of metal scraping against metal, grunts and gargling, people throwing up, dying and moving in their last throes of agony.

For a second her concentration wavered. She saw all that death, felt its cloak put on her shoulders, and her stomach strained against the experience. She stumbled forward and, yards away on the roofs which weren't broken, she noticed Gaara shield himself with sand as Senyaku drove against him. Then another kunoichi tumbled against her.

When Sakura turned to lose the weight and retaliate, however, she found the woman to be dead already. The strike to the face from another direction came as a surprise. She reeled back, crashing against the ruin of a house with her back, feeling a brick uncomfortably between her shoulder blades.

Sasuke and Naruto were on their way, but for this she would not need them. There was a knife for every occasion. She launched herself forward, ignoring the itching in her nose and the sensation of warm blood on her lips. A string of chakra went out from her hand and attached itself to the knife in her boot. A split-second, then she felt the leather-wrapped handle solidly in her palm as she was about to stick the shinobi in front of her.

"Sakura! _Garuga_!"

She skidded to a halt at her name and the familiar war cry, hurriedly lifting one arm to shield her face. A hurricane of claws and fangs, Kiba tore into the man, evaporating him into a fine mist of blood and the odd lump of flesh that bumped off her raised arm.

"Don't sleep," the Inuzuka said, both arms red up to the shoulders, his face a feral mask of bloodlust.

"Kiba! Are the others alright?"

"No one's dead," he said, standing in the remains of what had been a human just two seconds earlier. But he was not looking at Sakura anymore, slit eyes focused on the next target already. "Take care," he told her, before setting off toward the thick of the fight again, spinning himself into another tornado.

Afterwards, wading through the violence around them, it felt like an eternity to her until they finally reached the roofs where Gaara was fighting. They scaled the walls, came up beside the new Kazekage, and ran under his sand and side-by side with it as they tore forward to lay into Senyaku.

The hit aimed at Naruto's head was caught by a fist of sand, and while Naruto leapt to the side for a better angle, Senyaku effortlessly parried the slash of Sasuke's sword. Sakura joined them, setting up as she neared an obstacle hidden by a Genjutsu. When she struck, however, the Elite Jōnin stepped around the little wall as though he knew it had been there. He made to grab for her arm which she hastily withdrew after her punch hit air.

The four of them barraged Senyaku with all they had, spitting fire and water, hindering, advancing, trying for combinations. Senyaku slowly backed away. He was good, and his experience made it seem as if he had a Sharingan himself. But four against one, they pushed. And even though he tried to push back, he began to show signs of weakness: an open guard, a mistake in deflecting when faced with four attacks at once. They took all those chances when they presented themselves.

Gaara's sand sneaked around the perimeter and pulled at Senyaku's feet. The man wore a desperate expression as Naruto used the chance, broke through his guard, and let fly with his fist, staggering him. Blade extended, Sasuke appeared beside Senyaku an instant later, ready to cleave his head clean off his shoulders as Sakura's illusion finally took hold.

The plan worked beautifully until Senyaku suddenly stopped mid-retreat. The air around him shifted, the killing intent layered around him sharp yet heavy. He recovered as though he had never lost his balance in the first place, as though all of this had been a game, nothing more, a ploy that all four of them noticed far too late. Sakura's Genjutsu lost its effect on him, and he jumped, planting his boot solidly in Naruto's face. The blond careened back and crashed into a building with enough force to set the ground ashiver. Sasuke's blade was still on course, but Senyaku shifted his head away in the nick of time, turned, and spat a gust of wind point blank at Sasuke's face.

The wind didn't blast, but carved lines into his face. Sasuke raised one arm instinctively to guard his eyes.

"Sasuke!" Sakura cried out.

The Uchiha moved on instinct, reacting to her voice. He tried to leap away, but Senyaku had already gripped his shielding arm with both hands. The Jōnin gave it a sudden twist. Sasuke's arm broke like a twig, and he uttered a sharp, agonized scream. Senyaku still held on to the arm with one hand, a blade of wind shaping around the other. The sound of sandpaper rubbing against sandpaper made the hairs on Sakura's neck stand up. Then came the hollering of Naruto, who had extracted himself from the ruin of a house.

Senyaku thrust his arm forward, ignoring every hazard Sakura frantically put in his way.

As the blade closed in, Gaara's sand surged up. It halted the advance, if barely. The shredding wind around the tip of the blade slowly tore through the wall near Sasuke's face, but by then Naruto was back with them, covered in dust and grime, and pulled Sasuke away from the rebel leader and onto another roof.

Senyaku aborted the attack. As the wind died down around his arm, he glared at them with the intensity of a cornered wolf that knew it had yet to lose its chance at escape. Still, she found none of the madness in the man's expression that she would have expected in someone who had consigned thousands of civilians to oblivion. He seemed focused, boiling with hatred, but focused. In a strange way, to her this was how shinobi fights between bitter enemies should be. Nothing like involving civilians, none of the total madness that was Ike. Shinobi at each other's throats, hot-blooded yet clear-headed in how they executed their plans.

 _We are still idiots_ , Sakura thought, looking at the man around which the sand now fell useless to the ground. _We let him goad us into overreaching_. _Good job. Absolutely fantastic._

They weren't dead though, she amended, and with Senyaku being an Elite Jōnin that meant something. They were spitting blood just to survive, but this was doable. It had to be. And if only this one man died, the civil war would finally come to an end.

They bound forward again. Gaara directed his sand to give them space, while Naruto kicked into high gear, exuding an impossible amount of chakra as he hurled water in house-sized portions at Senyaku. She ran side by side with Sasuke, and layered as many illusions around the man as she could. If the subtlety of combination had not worked, then quantity might do the trick.

She sensed the threads of her Genjutsu race for Senyaku. As they flew the distance, they wove themselves into complex nets, able to be seen and felt only by her, each motif they stitched into the fabric of reality different and geared to a special purpose. The first technique, which conjured the voices of dead friends, slid off Senyaku while he leapt back from Naruto's water and avoided Sasuke's attack.

She had expected that though. The first was always only the decoy. It set up the second—a brief image of a lost loved one—which worked not at all, but set a tone. As did the third, a rather trite technique that evoked your nightmares, grabbing the essence which frightened you in that state of temporary lunacy, dragging it away from the grasp of your subconscious to make it a tangible fear.

Senyaku landed a hit on Sasuke, sending the Uchiha skidding back. But his eyes focused on her momentarily, before Sasuke had regained his balance, returned, and another wave crashed down on the roof. She grinned fiercely. _You felt that one didn't you?_

It might have been only for a moment. But in a fight that is all what you need to kill someone. On their own these attacks weren't strong. But they all worked in tandem with one another, and when one illusion was swept away, she replaced it with the same, or a different one, to keep up the pressure.

Each motif she wove with these threads utilized his fear and his guilt. So much of it that after a few seconds he began anticipating them, preparing subconsciously to defend against them; and her grin widened when she noticed the walls go up and felt nets of subtle chakra catch her illusions before they made it far; when the tapestry she had woven began unraveling because each attack became less threatening to him. He expected each illusion to be of the same cloth and, fully occupied with the others, paid less attention to her now.

 _And when people least expect it_ , Kakashi had said, _when they think all you do is small-time illusions, you hit them with a shot that kills._

The moment Sasuke and Naruto attacked Senyaku again, she sped through seals. _Wise words, sensei, let's hope they're true._

Senyaku was about to duck away from Naruto's incoming punch right when the Genjutsu set in. It was supposed to distort the sound around him, fool the visual perception, make the shingles of the roof rise up as though they were surfing on a wave, and have him sense random gusts of wind from different directions.

It was the ultimate combination of sensory input that she could come up with—an illusion far, far removed from anything that plays on guilt and fear, a technique that in this form he could not have anticipated from her prior approach.

And for the first time Sakura felt one of her Genjutsu settle fully on the man, however briefly. He froze for a split-second, but that was enough for Naruto to smash a fist into his face. Senyaku staggered back, into the path of Sasuke's sword. Then that illusion too wavered, and the Jōnin leaned to the side. The blade missed his head but sliced off a chunk of his shoulder plate and a neat slice of flesh from his biceps.

Senyaku had paid her little attention so far, but now he stood looking at her, and only her, and a dome of wind swelled around him, pushing away Naruto, Sasuke, and Gaara's sand within two pulses.

Then he shot forward, hands flying through seals. She dodged the first wind bullet, but suddenly heard a roar and saw a mud dragon the size of the Hokage Tower tear across the roofs.

Sakura willed her legs to move faster, tried to swerve to the side. Then a wind bullet hit her side, the impact tearing her flimsy defense apart and sending her bouncing across the floor. As she came to, head spinning, the dragon bore down on her, open maw dripping brown liquid as it descended.

"Sakura!"

At Naruto's voice she glanced up, seeing a kunai sail through the air above the head of the dragon. A thankful thought later, she changed places with the weapon and entered a free fall after exiting the replacement. She felt her heart race to match the sound of whipping wind around her, but that anxiety was only a remnant of her near-encounter with the dragon just now. Even while falling and being unable to defend herself in the air, she held no fear anymore after the substitution. Strong arms caught her a second later, and then Naruto set her back on her feet, swaying a bit afterward. They stood in the streets now, amidst a ruinous field of several destroyed houses.

"You okay?" he asked.

"All good," she said. "Thanks, Naruto."

He turned to Senyaku. "Time to blast that guy to kingdom come."

"I couldn't agree more," Sakura said.

But as she took account of Sasuke's and Gaara's position, and made ready for another attack, a sudden wind winged over the roof. The squall picked up the unprepared Senyaku, as if an invisible God had grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Throwing him into an adjacent district, it whistled sharply through the streets and the windows of the houses, making the hairs on Sakura's nape stand up like a bed of nails.

She had only a moment to wonder about the reason. Then Danzō rushed past them, sword in hand, feet barely touching the roofs and lips pressed into a thin line. He was gone as quickly has he had come.

Sasuke and Gaara joined them on the ground.

Pushing past the exhaustion that began to settle after the immediate danger was past, Sakura stared at the place where Danzō had appeared, like a mirage almost. Already there were explosions and the sound of wind grinding against wind coming from the direction of the other district. "What do we do about that?" she asked. "Help him?"

Naruto hobbled lightly, pulling at his leg. Had he injured it when crashing into the building? And why wasn't it healed already? Though she thought she knew the answer to that question.

"Danzō can hold his own," Naruto said.

"He's stealing our kill," Sasuke said.

They all looked incredulously at Sasuke, but he returned their stares entirely unapologetic.

"Is that actually your concern?" Gaara said, brows furrowed.

"I don't care for money," said Sasuke, "but Senyaku is a lot of work. We almost had him."

Sakura shook her head. "We didn't have him beat, you know."

"We were about to."

"This debate is pointless," Gaara said, stretching his left arm as if to see whether it still functioned. "I will rejoin the battle at the docks. My Genin are still fighting." He shot a dark look at the place Danzō had vanished to.

"We'll help you," Sakura said.

Naruto nodded. "Agreed. You in, Sasuke?"

"Hn."

 _Tap-tap-tap_.

All four looked down at the pavement. A duck made of clay waddled inside the circle their feet made, with mechanical-like motions, all white and shambling along like the windup toys of Sakura's childhood.

 _Tap-tap-tap_.

"M—"

The duck went up in a flash of black and red and orange. Team Seven would have gone with it, scalded by the fist of heat hammering at them from the blast, had Gaara not reacted faster, calling up his sand to shield them. The sand crumbled like unsecure brickwork in a storm, and when the vision cleared, Naruto stood stiff beside her.

"What now?" Sakura asked, a trace of exasperation in her voice.

From the other side of the street came explosive laughter. "Now you come with us, and we'll have us a festival of art."

* * *

A look at the two men across the street sufficed. Black cloaks with red clouds were fairly unique as far as clothing went. Sasuke noticed that Gaara, too, seemed to know about Akatsuki and assumed he must have been briefed before returning from his confinement in Konoha. Sasuke swept the area with his gaze, muscles tense, but there was no sign of his brother anywhere.

Naruto summed their encounter up in an adequate way.

"Shit."

"I told you to use a larger bomb, Deidara." The voice was deep and muffled. It belonged to a man stooping like an old woman. He wore a crown of spindly dark hair, knotted into five thick strands jutting away from his head. They exposed a cluster of scars that made his skin seem like the field of a mad farmer who, uncaring for convention, had led his plough first this, then that way.

But why now? Sasuke wondered, before chiding himself for the question. A battle was the epitome of chaos. What better situation to grab not one but two Jinchūriki? Right now, everyone was occupied with an enemy. The only real question to ask, he told himself, was how much Akatsuki was involved in everything that had happened.

"A bigger bomb would've killed the Jinchūriki, Sasori no Danna."

"Imbecile. Your art is incapable of murdering two of the Nine." There was a trace of annoyance in Sasori's voice.

Deidara growled an insult under his breath and Sasori's red-veined eyes turned to him, narrowed in response, before turning back to Team Seven and the Kazekage. There was movement on his hunched back. An outline shaped itself against his cloak, straining, like a monster trying to escape. Then the fabric smoothed over, the shape vanished.

Sasori spoke.

"I will take the Kyuubi."

"That's not—"

Metal flashed under Sasori's cloak. A tail hurtled at Team Seven, link by link leaving the cloak but never ending. They doubled to the left, all three of them, and tumbled down the ruin of a house, got stuck at wood jutting out from the rubble, finally reaching the ground in a mess but safe. The triangular tip of the tail reflected the sunlight as it retreated from the ruin, flicking forward for a second attempt.

There was a blast on top of the ruin and then dust and bits of debris rained down on them. Sasuke pulled the hobbling Naruto away from the blade of the tail. He cursed, almost lost his balance, but they made it over a broken shelf, stumbling into an alley.

The tail pulled back.

"Gaara?"

Sasuke shook his head. The redhead hadn't jumped with them. He would be on his own now.

"He'll make it," said Sakura.

They ran away through the alleys of a shattered district. Naruto lagged behind a few steps, face red with exertion and pain. The crash into the house earlier, Sasuke realized. And the Kyuubi was an entity they did not care to invoke again.

Sakura, "We need a plan."

"Make one."

"How about 'kill him?'"

Lungs starved for oxygen, they rounded a corner. But in the next alley, Sasori was welcoming them. His facemask hung fluttering from a nail in his face, and Sasuke saw that the jaw was made of wood. He lacked the time to investigate further. When Sasori opened his mouth with a creaking sound, Sasuke launched himself backward, behind Sakura. He parried the few senbon making it past Sakura's rising wall with a sword.

They left the wall as it was and doubled back around the corner, choosing another route.

"Hn."

"Sasuke's right. That's not killing him."

Sakura took a random path. "I like it better than dying. The senbon were coated in poison." She swerved left, around another corner. The back street was a tight fit now and they could not run side-by-side anymore. "We can't take any of his hits. If we do, we're dead." She gasped for breath. "Better cover here."

The tail tore through the wall behind Sasuke—something sharp sliced his cheek. He hurried back; it was just a piece of broken plaster, just a piece of—

"Sasuke!"

His head hurt. He turned, dazed, lifted his sword, but his arms wouldn't listen. Why? He was doing everything like he always did. He lifted his arms, but they…they didn't obey? Why did his arms not comply? His mind swam with thoughts of mutiny. There, the cut on his cheek, it burned. It was hot. Why? And now it was wet? He turned again by ninety degrees. There was Sasori. But then there wasn't.

Naruto stood in front of him; he shouted something and water was everywhere. There was fire, too. It burned and burned, and the heat and flames licked at the water but they did not cleave through.

"Get…—ogether, Sasuke!"

Sakura slapped him. For a second the wooziness dimmed. Poison. It was poison. He had to heal himself. Now, quickly, before he couldn't anymore. Where had he been hit again? Where? He patted around his body and his vest, eyes flickering around, rolling sickly in their sockets. He looked up. No, the sky was not the wound. Where? And why was he so goddamn dizzy? Then Sakura grabbed his hands and put them on his cheek and he remembered.

"I—" He took a shuddering breath, leaning against the wall of a house, as Naruto struggled against an onslaught of the tail and senbon, stumbling from one side of the alley to the next. "Time," he gasped, "—to get it out."

"Hurry."

And then Sakura was with Naruto, helping and shielding him, as Sasuke cupped water from a puddle with the palm of his functioning arm and led it to his cheek, trying to extract the poison while feeling like vomiting any minute now.

* * *

The Academy taught: keep to alleys and streets and you need not fear a thousand opponents. If, at any given moment you can dodge into a backstreet to avoid getting burned to a crisp, you shall do so. The surrounding is your friend also, and like any good friend it will reach you a helping hand when you need it most. Iruka's words, not hers. Swing yourself up to the windows, use clothes hanging from wash lines to conceal your purpose, run and throw your weapons, plan and set ambushes, trap your enemy. If nothing else, you might annoy whoever you are fighting enough to make them sloppy. Streets, Iruka had concluded, make your life decidedly easier if you know how to use them.

As Sakura found out, Sasori didn't give two shits about something minor as being confined by a street, and neither did his puppets. And those, the hunchback pulled with a frightening regularity out of his oversized sleeves.

She grabbed the window sill above with her left and dragged herself up the next level just as Sasori's tail smashed through the wall under her. He did that often, destroying walls, before yanking his monstrous appendage back for another try. But even in the short moment between his attempts to spear her, she had no time to breath.

She swayed from left to right, gaining momentum, then swung herself up to the next level. A wooden fist struck the wall of the house and the sound of wooden clattering she had learned to hate was ever so close now. She somersaulted off the wall and onto the street below, sinking her heel in the head of a puppet clothed in a sheet of black and red linen. Naruto slid up to her, as well as a man with a broken leg could slide, but there was no time to talk. Next second they separated again as Sasori's tail broke through another wall and his puppets kept coming.

If his plan was to tire them out, well he did that with an admirable single mindedness.

Sakura backhanded a puppet into the ground and swept past two more, taking in as much oxygen as she could with each breath. If this continued they would not make it. She threw a puppet over her shoulder, lunged to the side, away from a host of senbon flying overhead like a school of birds, and from there kicked herself off the wall to drive her elbow into the next wooden face.

Sasuke was lying somewhere behind her, pulling out the poison one agonizing grunt after another, and the puppets were immune to her illusions by their very nature. Sakura smashed the next puppet. The mounting immobility was doing them in. They couldn't use the streets as they should, and all Sasori did was stand across from them, lashing out with his tail and sending his helpers and the occasional shower of sharp objects.

 _What a shit way to die_ , she thought, flipping closer to Naruto and Sasuke as more puppets came prowling the alley. She suddenly felt like laughing, but it wouldn't be a happy laugh if it were to escape her. The feeling of being driven into a corner like this with no escape sent a string of mad hilarity scurrying through her body.

She had cried when Naruto was abducted. She had felt sorry, incredibly so, for the innocent people they met on the road, all of which had nothing to do with this war and still got shafted by it. And when Ike went up in a rolling mass of green and yellow, and life there was wiped out almost exclusively while Naruto fought with the beast inside him, sheer desperation had brought her, for a while, closer to the edge of insanity than had she ever been before.

By now she was empty.

Sasori was as horrifying as any S-ranked shinobi hunting Jinchūriki would be, but there were no tears to shed anymore, and no horror to succumb to. And all she could do right now was laugh, because for everything else she lacked the strength and the state of mind.

Death or no death; tragedy or no tragedy—at some point you just stopped caring and thought that letting the world burn might not be such a bad idea after all.

 _What is left_ , she thought, _what is truly left, Haruno Sakura, is spite and madness and hilarity. That's all there is to it._ And if this was the life of a shinobi, the path she had set herself upon when she was barely five, the road that had split her family and which she walked, eyes opening farther to the cruelty of the world with each step taken, then her father had been right back then. She should have stayed far away from becoming a shinobi, should never have gone this way.

Yet go she did, and now she was here, and despite having been stupid as a child, she was even worse now as an adult; because despite everything—all the blood and the fear and the screams—it took but one look at her teammates to know that she would do it again, would tie her sandals, take up the headband, and march down this blood-soaked road with a cheery smile and a knife in her hand if it meant meeting them again.

So she fought and she laughed and beside her Naruto did the same, and if Sasuke ever were to recover from the poison in time, he'd be along for the ride, because that was the occupation they chose for their lives.

* * *

A broken leg made for a bad companion in a fight. So spoke Uzumaki Naruto, Chūnin of Konoha, sun-kissed child of Fire Country, in possession of himself and all that belonged to him. He thrust out his palm, shoving one puppet into another, then bowed out of a fight against three more from the front and pushed himself into a handstand, slipping his good leg past the guard of the puppet behind him.

There was the sound of crackling wood and, above, a shadow and a brief burst of laughter as Sakura flew over him to take the three puppets up on their offer for a fight. He would've kept laughing, too, but his lungs burned just thinking of it, so he didn't and kept kicking at enemies the best he could without breaking his remaining leg as well.

He danced with his enemies, gyrating around their attacks, and replacing himself every so often. He was thankful that puppets at least didn't shit themselves when they died. That was because they couldn't die. He knew that on principle, but the lesson had imparted itself even stronger during the fight. He had hacked off the head from one, and as the body slumped to the ground, the head had turned around shooting very long and very sharp needles at him. He had been forced to gambol into a head butt that hurt all the more for its wooden quality.

There were explosions everywhere—near, far, in their battle even. The ground rumbled, more roofs collapsed. There was a steady amount of screaming, and at times the screams sounded like they all came from the same person. But that was silly. He had just lost the ability to differentiate between all the screams he heard. Often also came a row of faint popping noises from the docks.

Pitched battles between shinobi forces were strange animals.

He was bashing the head of a puppet against a broken sign post for extra measure—just to be sure—when a string of chakra looped around his bad leg. The pain shot up his limb and he gritted his teeth as he let himself fall down, loosening the string again as it didn't have to pull anymore, and then cutting it off.

Now flat on his stomach he rolled to the side. Two swords and an axe embedded themselves in the ground, whirling up dust. The next were following, and he rolled and rolled and hoped that Sakura would notice his situation and help, because his leg hurt like hell and the puppets gave him no time to get up and in a better position.

Sakura had problems all her own though, conducting acrobatic feats, a dance of them, as she jumped and wheeled and all that while laughing like a madwoman and using as little chakra as possible to make the terrain her servant.

So Naruto kept rolling and the weapons kept being driven into the ground at the places he had been before. To do that in perpetuity sounded good, but when his back met the wall just as he was about to turn once more, good turned to bad. The shadows around him grew and he tried to go the other way, but there were the axes and swords and spears.

He pulled a small fan out of the ground and rolled as far on his back as the remaining space allowed. He opened the fan, waited for the sword to lance through the fabric, then closed the fan, turned his wrist, held tight, jerked once, and the sword plus fan went flying to the other side of the street. As the puppet reached in its dirty cloak to pull out a new weapon, Naruto grabbed its wrist. The puppet struggled, pulling its arm back trying to get free, and using that momentum Naruto let himself be yanked into an upright position.

"Thanks," he murmured, now standing leaning against the building and punching holes in the puppet. Already he regretted speaking at all. Speaking was tiresome and the Kyuubi cared as much for healing him as Naruto cared for asking for help from the fox. He turned to the next enemies gliding toward him and began hobbling forward to meet them.

A man-sized sphere of fire hit them before he could, all white and red and orange.

Sasuke stood swaying and pale as an empty scroll, but he _was_ standing and he _was_ alive and that's all Naruto required for feeling a bit better. Not much, but a bit.

"You magnificent bastard."

Sasuke looked at him with a weakly raised eyebrow.

"Did I say that out loud?"

Sasuke was about to answer, when Sakura ran past them, a group of dozen puppets on her heels. Sasuke decided to do what he did best and flung more flames at them, then he followed Sakura still not quite steady on his feet; Naruto did the same.

"I'm sick of this maze," said Sakura. She did her best to support them as Sasori broke through the wall she had left him as a hindrance, which delayed him not at all.

Naruto gargled a response, spit blood on the ground, then they were around the corner, and stopped, not quite sure if this area was better than the one before. Here there were no alleys and no windows and corners to crouch behind, just a flat space laid out with tiles and an ornate well of obsidian in the center that ran red already with three corpses swimming inside.

"Are you not tired of running, Jinchūriki?"

Sasori had caught up with them, and without his cloak he wasn't a hunching albeit deadly grandpa anymore, but an ugly puppet instead. Naruto did not know how to feel about that. He always believed puppets needed a puppeteer. But then, his knowledge on the art was limited.

"I—" He shoveled more air in his lungs. "I don't think so."

 _I say that just to avoid agreeing with you, you steaming pile of firewood. I want very much to stop running. And I think we will do that now. We tried the backstreets and it did not work. Let's see how you like this_.

Naruto paced through seals, and the scarlet water from the fountain rushed forward, Team Seven with it.

* * *

The plaza looked like a cemetery. Like memorials for the dead, slabs of stone poked up at various angles all over the field, though the area smelled of burned wood instead of incense. Around Team Seven the flames were eating into wood, crackling. Smoke curled in spires toward the sky.

Sakura held her side, pressing a hand against the blood soaked part of her shirt. She was swaying on her feet, shaking not just with exhaustion but with an incomprehensible rage that was scraping against the borders of her rationality. Earlier she'd had a feeling where she did not care for death. She had liked that better than anger. Now, however, her nails were biting deep into her flesh, leaving half-moons of blood behind.

"You…"

Sasori stared at her with nonchalance. He spoke in a monotone but almost soothing voice so different from the deep baritone he had before.

"You seem angry, girl. I have yet to take the Jinchūriki."

"It won't happen anytime soon," said Naruto, leaning against the half destroyed fountain, careful not to put too much weight on his leg. Sasuke was right with him, cradling his arm.

"We will see. Escaping Akatsuki would be a work of art all on its own. But you do not strike me as capable enough to be an artist."

"Well you're not really the one to measure against," said Sasuke.

"Exactly," said Naruto. "Every two-bit whore from here to Suna can make better puppets than you."

Sakura had no sense for their banter. She looked at the remains of Team Seven's latest technique, an old, studied one that seemed to work less with each attempt. The triangular prison around Sasori was molten to the ground, the stones blackened at the top. Sasuke had blasted the inside of the prison with flame as usual, but then dove right after his Jutsu and battled, for a moment, the encumbered puppeteer himself. He had almost gotten himself poisoned again, but in the confusion had managed to tag the weird shell Sasori used as a shield before jumping out.

A victory, albeit a small one, which turned to horror the moment Sasori abandoned his own puppet and climbed out, sending a hurricane of emotions whirling through Sakura.

Fair skin, red hair, a broken puppet. She remembered, then, the picture that poor drug-addled Sorashi Yura had drawn, of children-like figures in golden robes, of black-masked teenagers, of a puppet the size of an adult, and next to it, a red-haired giant. And it clicked into place, finally, what the size of these things meant, what his mind had come up with to tell her of _that_ day. Yura had chosen the height of each object in the scene according to its importance, and to him, what did gold-clothed merchants matter? Black-masked teenagers—ANBU, most likely? And lastly, the real threat. The murderer. The puppeteer and his puppet.

 _You killed my mother_ , she thought, feeling her knees weaken as if filled with water. _You murdered her in Suna with all the other traders that day, and I will kill you for it. God, I will kill you dead._

* * *

Sasuke realized too late what Sakura intended to do. When she dashed forward, he leapt off the fountain to get a hold of her shoulder and keep her back. She was fast though, and did not listen, neither to him, nor to Naruto. Not seeing any other way of saving her, they followed Sakura right up to Sasori. Only when her first blow ran into nothing did Sasuke come into reach and pulled her back.

She struggled against his grip. "—Let me go, Sasuke! Let me go!"

He did so at the other end of the plaza with enough distance between them and Sasori.

"What's the matter with you?" Naruto asked.

"He—"

Sakura stopped herself before she could finish. Her eyes snapped east, widened almost comically. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no."

"Saku—"

"Run!"

Sakura threw a hateful glare at Sasori, then hurried toward the corner of the plaza from which a street led into the western part of Hajim. They had just reached the boarded windows of a shop when Sasuke sensed it as well. He ran faster, then, as fast as his legs could carry him. How much bad luck could one team have within a fight? In the last hour alone the tide of battle, who he was fighting, had changed so often that he began to lose track of it. The constant readjustments started to shave away at his sanity. He felt not just the onset of a headache, but also a deep-seated tiredness of mind that clove to him as if it had been welded together with his body.

He had a moment to think that he wanted this fight to end, now that his head grew heavy. Then a comet struck the ground before them. Heat pushed against Sasuke. A circular patch of thrown up pavement ringed a crouching man in a diameter of five yards. The impact had blackened the ground under him to a charcoal color.

The man straightened up as the smoke cleared away and Sasuke got a full sight of their new enemy. Rōshi, decked out in red armor, golden ring glinting in his ear, rose from his crouching position.

"I found ye." He laughed. It was a rough bark. "Finally, and all the gods be thanked, I found you." He was walking toward them, slowly, and the air around him shimmered with heat. "The boy you killed…I don't think I was quite as angry in decades." He shook his head. "I thought I got over it—I'm an old hand at loss, ye know?"

"Evidently not," murmured Naruto.

Rōshi peered at him through his narrowed hawk eyes. "Evidently. Seeing you at Ike reaffirmed my anger." Now he was grinning at them, muscles bulging under his armor. "I dealt with your teacher…well, now I'm here, and it's time to pay for what you did."

Naruto squared his shoulder and Sasuke kept gazing between him, Rōshi, and Sasori who was still standing at the other side of the plaza observing the situation with something akin to amusement.

"You're lying," said Sakura. "There's no way a guy like you could kill Kakashi-sensei."

"She's right," Naruto said. "You're good, man, but not that good."

"Aren't I?"

Rōshi slammed his fists together, and the ground under his feet began boiling and started glowing red and orange. The pavement, unused to the sudden heat, began moving in waves up and down, up and down, and then lifted like little mounds as if a mole was at work, until the mounds became little volcanoes of their own.

"I think you will see well enough how good I am."

"You shouldn't even be fighting us," Naruto said suddenly. He stood ready to brawl with another Jinchūriki, but was nodding at Sasori. "See that guy there? He's from Akatsuki; you ever heard of them?"

"I have."

"So you know what they do?"

Rōshi was walking again and the mounds and the lava moved with him. The boarded-up window from the shop blazed up as a spark jumped over. Then the next window caught fire. Soon the roof stood in flames. The fire jumped over and pushed the carpet of fire further down to the next roof.

"They're mercenaries. But that doesn't matter, not to us."

With those words Rōshi disappeared.

Sasuke scanned the area with his Sharingan, but he found little that would indicate where Rōshi was. Then he suddenly saw the man right in front of him. Rōshi struck his chest with the force of a sledgehammer, and he flew back into the burning house. His clothes on fire, Sasuke ripped off his shirt and lunged out of the collapsing building.

"I will take great pleasure in killing all of you," said Rōshi.

With Sakura's support, Naruto was weaving between the attacks as best as he could. He had gotten better, but not nearly enough to do this on his own just yet. Sasuke rejoined them. He slid into the battle, shifted under Naruto's ninety degree kick and swept at Rōshi's leg.

They gyrated around one another, punching and stabbing and deflecting. And whenever Naruto had the time for it he screamed at Rōshi:

"You moron"—Naruto headbutted Rōshi's fist—"Akatsuki is"—Sakura pulled him away from a missed charge—"hunting Jinchūriki."

Rōshi stopped for a moment. Sasuke used that time to bring a safe distance between himself and the mad Four-Tails.

"They're hunting Jinchūriki?"

"That's what I said," Naruto said. "They're out for you, for me. Uchiha Itachi's one of them. Hoshigaki Kisame's another member. Met them both already." Naruto paused for breath. "And they want us. Our Bijū."

"You're throwing around some tall names, boy."

"Yeah, fuck you, too. I'm not lying."

Rōshi panned a look around the plaza which was burning now almost everywhere. Then his eyes got stuck at them again. There flashed something dangerous in them. "Even if what you say is true, he's not here anymore."

Team Seven's heads snapped around, searching for Sasori frantically. They did not find him.

"Can you sense him, Sakura?"

She tried.

"No. He's somewhere else."

"The girl's right, boy. No one but us is here now. And I think ye know what that means."

They stood, squared, shoulder to shoulder, jaws set. Sasuke felt the handle of his sword in his hand, and wasted little thought about where Sasori had gone off to. It might be folly to ignore the location of an S-ranked puppeteer, but he recognized that he lacked the ability to focus on anything else but the threat directly in front of him. He could have done it a few hours ago, but not anymore. Rōshi was there. Rōshi was visible.

Then Rōshi moved. He jumped vertically until his frame blotched out the sun and all they saw was his dark silhouette. Then came his voice, a thundering drone reverberating in their skulls.

" _Doton:_ _Majesty of the Lost Mountain_."

The world rumbled, shivered, and writhed as the pavement of the plaza went even further up than it did before. Team Seven stumbled backwards, now on a decline, as the ground under their feet slanted up. Rōshi was shaping the whole place into a mountain, a large one. With a crunching sound the pavement broke away, the well collapsed and the mountain grew until the highest point was well over the three-storey buildings framing the plaza.

Naruto looked up. "He isn't going to—"

But Rōshi already flashed through new seals, now standing on top of his mountain.

" _Yōton: Crown of the Lava King_."

That was all the incentive they needed. Team Seven ran as the first waves of molten lava broke through the surface of the mountaintop and swept down the hill, toward them and every other direction.

There were no ideas now. Sasuke had none, neither did Sakura. Naruto kept running as quickly as his leg allowed, lagging slightly behind. He didn't have one either then. The lava was coming closer; large flaming boulders were flying overhead, landing in the different districts, setting those ablaze, too.

" _Doton: Cage of the Earth God_."

There was a gray blur, a slew of seals, a palm pressed flat to the ground. Sasuke had no time to wonder; a wall shot up and circled the mountain and the lava before any could escape further into the city. The wall easily as high as Hajim's.

"Water," said a thoroughly welcome voice from behind, and Sasuke felt Naruto react on instinct to the command. Naruto's voice rose into a roar, chakra shimmering blue around him, suffusing him with every particle and reaching out to the vast sea behind Hajim. The ocean they had arrived in. There was a moment when Naruto kept roaring, everyone kept looking, and nothing happened as the lava began to shore up and tear at the stone barricade. Even behind the wall the heat was unbearable and sent beads of sweat down Sasuke's neck.

Then came the shadow. Large, larger, and the noise of rolling waves, or just one wave of a size Sasuke hadn't imagined possible, and Naruto kept shouting his lungs out, roaring his conviction at Rōshi who still held the last hand seal to strengthen his technique. And Sasuke sensed the air around Naruto thicken as he brought all his chakra to bear, more, more, and the rolling wave came closer, and then it was there drenching them in darkness under it, before swooshing in a rush of noise and thunderous sound into the reservoir.

Frigid drops of water hit Sasuke's face.

The dome filled, their savior leapt up the wall and Team Seven joined him, looking at Rōshi who stood opposite of them at the other end of the reservoir now that his lava technique had been canceled out. The whole area was covered in a thick fog now, as sizzling filled the air.

"Kakashi-sensei…" Sakura said, and Sasuke couldn't remember another time of having heard such a relief in her voice.

Kakashi smiled at them. "Sorry I'm late," he said, "but the roads of this country are full of mysteries and places to get lost in." Then he turned to Rōshi. "Now, we two have a date to finish. It isn't good sport to run out on your dance partner, don't you know that?" Kakashi cracked his neck. "You've played long enough with my Genin."

"Chūnin," said Naruto.

"Yes, yes, right," Kakashi said, waving him off. "Chūnin, then." A second later, "Team Seven, assist the Kazekage. He's fighting two men right now and I recognized one as Deidara of Iwa."

"But—"

"No but. That's an order." Less harsh he added, "Leave Rōshi to me. We've unfinished business anyway."

"You going to be okay?"

Kakashi looked at Sakura and she ducked her head, mumbling a sorry. His features softened, and in a rare gesture he lifted his hand to her head, tousling her hair, which was still filthy and matted with blood from all the fighting.

"Who do you take me for?" he asked with a grin under his mask. "Now, get moving. Gaara-dono needs your help."

* * *

 **AN:** Here we go. Next chapter will be the end of this book. I hope you enjoyed yourself during the fights. Things are definitely coming to a close now in Hajim, with all players concentrated at one point. My thanks to DLP for their services.


	20. Scattered VI

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

 **AN:** Last chapter. Let's roll.

* * *

Lines in the Sand

 **Scattered VI**

* * *

 _And so we draw the lines, in sand that is;_

 _Here, we say, is what we stand for;_

 _That, we say, is our conviction!_

 _One gust is all it takes . . ._

* * *

Following Kakashi's orders, Sakura hurried through the remains of Hajim, Sasuke and Naruto right beside her. The sight that met them with every step was a cruel one. The streets were stained with blood and soot, a blackish sludge that painted the cobbles in the colors of war. Each inch she moved, the smell of burnt hair and waste, of death and all its ugliness surrounded her.

Another ruin flew by, timbers jutting out of the rubble. Sakura was already past it when a sound came from far behind as though the world was torn apart. She heard the city crumble, felt a rush of hot air as it pushed through the alleys and against her body. Looking back now would do nothing though; she knew where it came from, and so she kept running. Kakashi would manage. That was all there was to it. Faith. In him. In themselves.

Near the docks Sasuke took the lead. He looked straight ahead, grim-faced. All tired, yet unwavering; grit and determination equal to Naruto's when it mattered; she admired both for that.

From nearby Sakura still heard the sound of clashing metal, of skin hitting skin, a cry, a shout, the next explosive tag, another technique of shredding wind. It mingled in a brutal melody, each chord another death.

Naruto stopped to look down the thoroughfare toward the docks. Eight water clones rose from the puddles his wave had left behind in the street and fanned out in that direction. It was a nice gesture, she thought. They might not help much in the fights that still raged in the harbor, but they could do little things. Things just as important as killing. Distracting, perhaps. Or pulling the wounded out. It didn't matter much what they did, as long as they helped their friends down there.

Then they were off again. The sounds grew quieter as they left the area of the docks behind and made for the district where she had sensed Gaara earlier. Sakura rounded another corner when a blast made her stop cold. It was large and loud, and at that moment she had no doubt it had been heard by everyone in a radius of miles.

Sasuke stopped, same as her. "Unreal," Naruto whispered beside them.

Sakura followed their stares to the hole in Hajim's walls. Her breath hitched as big chunks of debris rained down onto the city. First taking the tip of a tower; then a dome, half of a house, two buildings right next to them.

She held her arm up against the billowing clouds of dust thrown up by the impact and heard Naruto cough next to her. "That's the direction Danzō took Senyaku to," she said.

"You think he won?"

"I sure hope so," she said. If that blast had been Senyaku's fault, things would become worse before long.

"We'll notice in time," Sasuke said. "Let's move."

So they did. They crossed another district, a field strewn with ruins, and then finally came upon Gaara. At the sight of him Sakura felt something coil in her chest, a hard knot like a fist. Her mouth was suddenly very dry.

Gaara's right arm was a monstrous limb of sand, sharp-clawed and lined with blue veins. Robe torn where the arm had grown out of his body, he swiped the limb sideways, caught a brace of senbon with the whole width of it, then pressed forward, pushing away five puppets at once.

He twisted his left hand to steer the sand around himself and nets of it exploded forward to catch Deidara's clay bombs. The air was awash with noise—muffled explosions like the crackling of fireworks. Then came an ocher drizzle that rained down on them.

When Gaara glanced over at their sudden appearance and revealed his face, Sakura had a short moment of light-headedness. The sand manifestation ran up to Gaara's hair, covering half of his face, his right eye a sickly yellow with a black star inside.

The left eye, however, was a clear turquoise. Narrowed, yes; but full of clarity as well. Gaara was in control, then. Sakura took a deep breath, her attention returning to her prior target. Sasori stood on top of a ruin, and she felt herself tremble at the sight. All the calmness her deep breathing had conjured evaporated.

 _I will rip your heart out_ , she thought, anger a searing-white point in her chest. _I will rip it out and stuff it right down your throat_.

In the end she was a creature ruled by emotions still, despite all her training to the contrary. Seeing Sasori stand atop the ruinous hill of debris, looking down at her with an expression that seemed like contempt for all its indifference, she forgot about plans and being careful, about everything that ran counter to her driving her knives into him. The world dissolved in nothing but thunder in her head and the hammer in her chest.

She charged up the ruin; her hands blurred, the earth rose and a last step delivered her in front of Sasori. The illusion slid off yet the earth around his feet took hold. He still wore some kind of cloak but that was alright. It would be sliced to ribbons soon enough, along with the man himself.

Sasori pointed his arm at her; wooden paneling was blasted off it with a clicking sound. Recognizing the flamethrower now facing her, Sakura managed to get her hand on it and turned it upward, where it shot a flower of fire into the air.

The metal cylinder in her hand grew scalding but she held on with her left as her right palmed a knife and she thrust it forward. The knife sheared through the cloak up—up—up. Almost through! The head was close—then she felt a rope look around her feet.

Sakura lost balance and let go of the knife to claw at his cloak. The rope, which she now saw was more like a garden hose dripping with oil, swung this and that way. It fastened, then loosened, and at last she lost the battle against gravity. She stumbled down the mountain of ruins, but not before ripping the cloak off with a tug that had all her weight behind it. She smirked up viciously as she fell backward and the sound of cloth splitting at the seams rang out.

Small victories. That was all she had. But in the end it would be enough. It had to be.

Before she landed on her back Sasuke caught her with his good arm. The left one flapped uselessly at his side and twitched like a fish deprived of water whenever he tried to do something before remembering that he wasn't able to.

Together they looked up at Sasori.

"He's a puppet," Sasuke said, and beside the analytic quality of his voice there was something else she heard: Sasuke was impressed. Disgusted maybe, but impressed nonetheless.

Sakura shot him a queer look, then concentrated on Sasori again. She had thought only parts of him were made of wood—prosthetics, maybe, with built-in weapons to make them viable for combat—but the whole man? Where his heart should be was a cylindrical protrusion with the imprint 'Scorpion,' and behind him swung blades as if he had two sharp ceiling fans mounted to his back.

The question of where Naruto was became moot when she heard his cry. He suddenly appeared between them, hitting the pavement with his shoulder before crashing into a wall with another shout. Gaara appeared a second later, shoving them away. There was the sudden presence of sand, then Sakura, wide-eyed, found herself being held by a hand suffused with the Ichibi's chakra that brought her away from—

Black, then roaring white; a flash of heat and pressure; a high static warble in her ear, slowly giving way to more noise—shouts, but who? Naruto, Sasuke. Gaara was talking too, his lips moving. She shook her head; another voice entered, droning impersonal cold, entirely untouched by her earlier fury. "Finish this, Deidara. The Jinchūriki will survive it."

"If you wish, Sasori no Danna. Here it comes. True art!"

She looked up and Deidara pushed his hands into the bags at his hips. Tongues ate material—an illusion? But she had no time to think. Gaara's voice: "Move!" Cold, too, but not nearly as untouched, a chilling determination threading through this single word.

Deidara's lips writhed; the ball of clay in his hands ballooned. One motion, then the clay came at them.

"Enjoy!" Insane laughter that swelled swelled swelled, while the bomb on its way surged to the size of a house.

On her feet, running, trying to dodge—away, away. God, not like this. Not blown to smithereens and chunks of flesh and bone and a sea of blood. Not!—Gaara shot past her, sand arm bent protectively around his face. The wrist of his normal arm turned like a screw being driven into wood. The sand obeyed: it swelled on the ground, rose to meet his demand, enveloped—

Like a trampoline the sand bounced the bomb back to Deidara who lifted his arm into a seal. Not enough! The bomb was out of range. It would only hurt Gaara if he set it off. Then she saw it, her heartbeat increased, and the warbling noise returned as she felt herself stop moving.

A tendril of sand looped around Deidara's leg. It threw him forward, into the bomb. Hands stopped sealing, yet Gaara was there with him, brow to brow, turquoise staring with razor-sharp fury into panicked gray, behind it the weight of a nation on the verge of being suffocated before its rebirth was complete. One arm held onto Deidara, the other touched the bomb.

A lance of sand, one thrust; the cocoon of white clay was speared, and Sakura's hand flew to her mouth as the bomb went up in a flash of blinding light. A shockwave threw her to the ground and she felt dust rain on her head and a piece of debris hit her leg; she looked up afterward, seeing Gaara fall to the ground, sand armor broken to little pieces. Yards away his opponent did the same. Then both lay on the rubble, unmoving.

"Gaara!"

Naruto was the first on his feet. He stormed up the ruin and toward the point Gaara had fallen to, his leg holding him back. Sakura followed him a second later, Sasuke on her heels. She barely made it in time, lunging at Naruto and pressing him to the ground before the jet of fire coming from Sasori could burn him to ashes. The heat layered on her skin like a useless blanket in summer and she quickly pulled Naruto into a standing position once the flames subsided.

Sasori stood across them, arms extended and glancing at the victims of the bomb. His right arm had opened like a metallic flower, a small opening for the flames to escape at the front. His left clutched a scroll.

"Foolish man," he said gruffly, as the scroll unfurled itself. "Enough of this. I would have liked to preserve you for my collection, but this has gone too far now. _Puppet of the Iron Dance_."

In a puff of smoke, a single puppet appeared. It looked like all the others to Sakura, but being the only one he pulled out, she hesitated.

Sasuke shifted into his stance. "That's not a normal puppet."

"I'll still smash it," said Naruto.

"On three," Sakura said.

Naruto's hand showed the first finger, then they lunged at the puppet. Behind her, Sakura sensed Naruto's chakra coalesce into shape. She was barely four steps farther when a beam of condensed water whizzed past her, Naruto behind it, hobbling. The beam cut its way through the rubble up to Sasori.

Sasuke was the first at the puppet. He slashed downward; the puppet grew two more arms and defended itself. Then Sakura reached the thing as well. She flung her fist forward with all her weight behind it.

The fist didn't reach.

A spike of gray broke out of the ground. Then came another, and a third, a fourth, suddenly dozens, a hundred, the whole field. A scream clawed its way out of her throat. The spike severed her tendons and she fell to the side and into more spikes spearing her arms and stomach, and she felt her guts leak out, adorning the spikes like creepers in a jungle of iron. Ahead, Naruto was stuck like a pig on four of them. He looked like the curved roof of a porous tent that leaked blood instead of water. Head craned back he was looking at the sky, gargling a moan.

One spike was all it took for Sasuke. It speared him right through the head.

Sakura lost consciousness.

Only to awake a second later. She was lying on the floor, no spikes inside her. Naruto and Sasuke on the pavement a yard away, equally undamaged. She jumped to her feet. She touched the parts of her body that had been severed and found no wounds. In a circle of five yards all spikes had vanished. Team Seven was the single point of serenity inside the forest of iron around them.

"What—"

"You are careless, Team Seven. As always. You should know better by now."

Sakura's heartbeat pounded away at the familiar voice. She hadn't thought she'd ever be in a position where she thanked the stars for that man's appearance.

Danzō limped up to them and past the remaining iron spikes, covered in blood from head to toe, the sword in his left hand dripping red. And he looked furious with them, which showed even more now that he had no bandages covering him up. His arm was outstretched toward them, old and wrinkled but free of any blemishes; a perfectly normal set of eyes glared at them from the place where once half his head had been hidden.

Had he worn those bandages to give the illusion of weakness? But whatever he had done had saved them. Big time.

Danzō positioned himself next to them, his eyes never leaving Sasori.

"Sasori of the Red Sand."

"Shimura Danzō. You killed my _puppet_ then."

"So it was your work after all," Danzō said, more to himself than any of them. Then he gave a miniscule shake of his head. "Team Seven," he said, and all three of them snapped to attention at the iron in his voice. "I will take the puppet of the third Kazekage. Assist with the puppeteer."

Then Danzō dashed right past her.

And for all his faults, and all the hate she held for him, at that moment Sakura had no doubts that he would have made Konoha great had he been the Hokage. Terrible, but great.

* * *

They heaved themselves up to take on Sasori, while Danzō fought the monstrous puppet that was apparently the third Kazekage. Another name on the list of people they should never have had to face in the first place. But that wasn't the problem, not anymore.

Worse by far was that their juices were running out; they had been running out for days now. Sakura felt much like a leaking bucket. From the storm on Ike to the infiltration of Hajim it had become a question of endurance. The Kyuubi, Senyaku, Akatsuki, Rōshi, Akatsuki again…There was a sense of cosmic screw-up prevalent in her thinking by now. She didn't know what they had done to offend them, but the deities that were did not love them, that much she could tell.

Naruto was limping as bad as Danzō had done when he was faking, just that Naruto's injury was real and he broke into a grimace each time he moved his leg. He had a higher pain threshold than most, but even that had its limit. He still had chakra. He always had that. But this wasn't about chakra. He was exhausted. They all were, mentally as well as physically, and against someone like Sasori a misstep meant death.

Sasuke concealed his exhaustion better. He breathed in strong gulps like them, but his face stayed in the same contemptuous expression he always wore when fighting.

Next to Sakura, Naruto hurled a barrage of high-pressure water bullets at Sasori. He didn't move from his spot, only trying to keep the puppeteer himself away from Danzō's fight with the puppet.

Sasuke followed the path of the bullets with his eyes.

"You got a plan?" Naruto asked him before resuming his attack.

Sasuke shook his head.

"Not much to it then but attack and hope for the best," Naruto said, shooting them a tired grin.

So they did.

Sakura took off, past Danzō—who was slicing his way through a host of wooden arms—and then Sasuke overtook her, blade ready to do the same to Sasori himself. Naruto lagged far behind but kept cutting off Sasori's escape paths with more water bullets, mixing the compact but insanely dangerous ones with the larger garden shed-sized varieties that could, with a small change in the seal sequence, morph into glue on impact.

All that was left for them, Sakura thought as she slipped into a crouching stance to avoid the sharp blades on Sasori's back, was to do what they could and had trained in.

It sounded so simple, but they had no other plan than this. And curiously enough, as the knives slipped into her hands and the earth rose in small increments to support her stance, and as she was thrusting the knives up and forward, was slashing this way than that, her arms moving to a rhythm only she heard, yes, curiously enough, then and there she felt no shame for having no plan. Because not in her life could she have planned for an encounter like this, even had she known about it beforehand.

She ducked to the side, avoiding a continuous stream of fire. Then Naruto's water hit; the fire sizzled and became fog. Sasuke sprinted past her, sword on the rise. Sasori blocked him, but for a second it seemed as if not all his concentration was on them. And Sakura still knew that she was battling a monster, since she had never before heard of a puppeteer who could control such a puppet and then even himself while fighting so many opponents at once.

She made for the next attack when she heard the tearing of clothes and the ripping into flesh beneath that sound. Sasuke heard it, too. They turned.

A stake of iron tall as a lamp post lanced through Danzō. With a slick noise his body was sliding down the stake.

 _God, not him_ , she thought, trying to get her shaking knees under control. _Not him. Anyone but him! He's the only one keeping us alive. He's—_

The air around Danzō's corpse shimmered and she sensed his chakra. But that wasn't possible. Then the shimmering stopped, the stake vanished, and Danzō stood there, completely fine, arm outstretched once more.

He moved his lips but Sakura couldn't hear him. A sudden heat was prickling on her skin and she began screaming, stumbling away from the sudden flames at her legs. The fire seared her thigh, leaving angry red blotches on her skin. It spread the smell of burnt hair and drove a curse of pain past her lips.

Taking your eyes off an enemy was foolish, and Sasori turned out to be a demanding and cruel teacher.

Sasuke knelt down beside her. A new pair of slices ran across his chest. They weren't deep, but still bled and were almost a mirror image of the scars he had earned in his fight against Kimimaro.

"—not careful," she bit out between a gasp. "Fuck."

"Stay here," was all Sasuke said before going up against Sasori alone; and all she could do was oscillate between holding her burned thigh and trying to catch Sasori in a web of illusions that grew weaker as her reserves started to run out.

"Sakura."

Naruto dragged himself across the rubble. The fire in his eyes still hadn't died yet, and again she wondered, how? One day she would learn his secret, she decided, and maybe the world wouldn't look as bleak then anymore.

Sakura watched Sasuke, then, eyes blurred by pain, and what he did looked like a row of circus feats. He wheeled around the puppeteer, both legs intact but only one arm working, and sheathed his blade before shifting into a one-armed hand-stand. He flipped away, then unsheathed the sword again the minute he went on the offensive once more.

Naruto sounded sincere as he said, "He's good."

And Sakura was only realistic when she answered, "He's getting slower."

Yet she could've watched him forever, because what Sasuke did—injured or not—was a work of art, at least to her. The sheer desperation behind each attack as he drove against Sasori like the tide against the shore was breathtaking in all its madness. That he did it so for them, for Team Seven, almost brought a smile to her face.

When a tremor went through the ground, her eyes were momentarily drawn to Danzō again. He had escaped certain death a third time just then, and Sasuke suddenly let go of Sasori, leaping at the sky as if charging the clouds. At the highest point of his jump he faced Danzō, eyes narrowed. A confused expression settled on his face.

He landed near them in a crouch.

"His arm isn't normal."

"Danzō's?" Naruto said.

Danzō was blasting a huge gale at the puppet, while Naruto kept shooting water bullets from his sitting position, still listening in.

"It bloats with chakra. I copied his Jutsu."

"And?" Naruto asked.

"I tried using it, but the chakra travels up to my eyes."

That was worrisome.

"I don't like this," Sakura ground out, still holding her leg.

"But he's winning," Naruto said, then continued firing.

And it was true. Little by little Danzō was pushing back the puppet, slicing off arms and disabling the weapons it had.

"I'll get a closer look. Keep Sasori off me."

* * *

Whatever Danzō's arm did, Sasuke had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. For now it was unfounded, but there was something to the Jutsu that was deeply unsettling. He had felt it briefly when trying it out: as if he'd lose an eye over it, quite literally. He had stopped his experiment just as quickly.

Danzō still had two eyes though. And why did the technique originate from his arm?

From the corner of his eye he noticed Sakura and Naruto doing their best to box in Sasori with water and earth—how effective that would be without him was questionable. He was the only one still able to move, so leaving their formation now was dangerous.

But it was necessary. There was an innate drive that kept him moving toward Danzō right now. Not just curiosity in general, but the search for definitive answers. Most of all it was the question of why the chakra he felt had been familiar, even though he couldn't place it just yet. His first guess had been the Kyuubi, but that wasn't it.

Ahead of him, the third Kazekage brought down a man-sized mace of iron on Danzō, who sidestepped, swiping his sword vertically, and Sasuke landed behind the puppet, thrusting his own blade forward.

With two people they'd definitely get the puppet. But that was not his reason for being there.

He ducked away from a lance of iron, eyes spinning and focusing on Danzō's arm. First there was nothing. A vast emptiness around the arm as the world became clear and well-defined. He leaned to the side, away from another wooden arm. When he came up from his dodge though it suddenly clicked. The tomoe in his eyes spun faster, and slowly the arm began shimmering. Then, like a smudged window that was rapidly cleaned, he saw it.

Momentarily his eyes widened, his movement slowed and his perception of his surroundings faltered. This couldn't be—

The last he noticed was the acidic bite of poison that corroded the insides of his lungs, and clouds of green blossoming all around him. He fell to the side, a last thought lamenting his lack of attention.

Only to be reborn again, outside of the poison cloud. He stared at Danzō, who squared off against the puppet again, and inside him he had a feeling as though he'd rend the world asunder.

"Help your team, Uchiha," Danzō grunted, "you're hindering me."

And Sasuke did just that, eyes narrowed to tiny slits, but thankful Danzō hadn't noticed anything and thought his death an honest mistake. Sasuke's breath ran rapid, and at any given moment he had to keep himself from turning around and sticking his blade into that decrepit corpse.

* * *

Fighting with two broken legs was unwise, Naruto knew. And having the second one break because your teammate went out to explore the depths of an old man's arm did not make the situation any better.

Sasori was a fucking monster. But that was nothing new.

Sakura sat beside him in the rubble, being in a similar predicament. Leg burned, arm sliced but functional, she was shaking from exhaustion. From his meager sensing skills he knew that she had juice for two more attacks, maybe three.

Around them lay the remains of two very special puppets. From the one with the long brown wig he smelled a common perfume he had noticed often in Suna. The other puppet's head, now with a hole between the eyes, had a shock of mousy red hair and looked quite familiar. In fact, both puppets shared a likeness to Sasori that was uncanny.

"This is fucked up," he told Sakura. "He made his parents into puppets."

"—you're telling me nothing new."

"Fuck that guy."

"You go first."

Turning on his side painstakingly, he looked for Sasori. The man had sicced, quite literally, his parents on them and now, having almost fully immobilized them, he could concentrate on his magnum opus. To control the puppets of his parents had been something instinctual to him, as if he had done it a million times over and needn't even look their way to steer them.

 _Yeah, well, look how that turned out_ , Naruto thought with a certain amount of vindictiveness, and if he'd had any spit left, why, he'd spit on the floor right here and now. _A lot of kindling, that's how. Still impressive though_.

These bastards with their black cloaks and red clouds were always so damn impressive. It was frightening, really.

Naruto had just located his target again and brought himself into position, when Sasuke was suddenly engulfed by cloud of poison. For a moment Naruto's heart stopped. He felt tendrils of red writhe up and down his chakra system, dulled to the extreme but felt for the first time since Ike. And despite everything that had happened, for a moment he was tempted. One thought. That was all it would take. But the memory of his father's sacrifice held him back.

 _Should've known you'd come out the moment this turns ugly_ , he thought, and maybe he even heard a laugh, rumbling and malicious. That was the problem. You never quite knew if it was your subconscious or the real deal.

Then Sasuke was alive again and settled a minute later in a crouch beside them.

Naruto's prepared words lodged in his throat like a fat lump of lead. In all their time together as Team Seven he could remember only a single moment of ever having seen an expression like this on his teammate. It was slaughter and blood. Hatred and confusion. All destruction, nothing more.

"He's got a Sharingan," Sasuke bit out. The leather around the hilt of his sword crackled under his grip.

"That's impossible," Naruto said.

"His arm's full of them. One after another." Sasuke closed his eyes, as if to suppress the memory. "A few are closed. They close when he reverts the situation . . . whatever he's actually doing with them."

Sakura asked, "How?"

"I don't know."

There was a silence that followed, which was only interrupted by the sounds of fighting as Danzō pressed against the third Kazekage and Sasori. They said nothing, each stewing in their thoughts, watching Danzō, who was no Uchiha but had the eyes of one, several at that—just on his arm. It was a monstrous fight, and while Danzō kept gaining ground, Sasori's traps were insidious and vicious, demanding far too often for the reversal of death.

In all this, Naruto only thought that Danzō definitely had more eyes than was healthy, or appropriate.

Kakashi wasn't an Uchiha either, but he had acquired his eye through an acceptable channel. Somehow Naruto doubted Danzō had asked the Uchiha for them, back when the clan had still been among the living. And that made all the difference, because there existed but one event in recent history that lent itself to a harvest for such an armful of purpose.

After another reversal Danzō did what none of them had managed alone; the puppet fell apart under a blast of wind shredding it from every direction.

They heard Sasori speak, agitation entering his voice now. "Death can neither be defeated by parlor tricks nor by running away from it, Danzō Shimura. You will learn this in time."

Danzō remained silent, walking up to Sasori.

"He's got one eye left on his arm," Sasuke said.

When Danzō arrived before Sasori and the hose dripping with oil and poison unwound itself to meet him, lashing out in a last attempt, Danzō sliced clean through it, blade sheathed in audible wind. The rotors at Sasori's back followed; the sound of two forces grinding against each other resounded as they joined the cut-off hose.

The puppeteer lay before Danzō, cylindrical heart exposed. Danzō lifted his sword for the final thrust.

A cavity in Sasori's heart opened. A cluster of needles, sharp and quick, pierced Danzō just as he was about to stab the heart. Danzō didn't move a muscle, just stood there, shimmering, and the needles and wounds vanished.

Sasuke ground out, "The last."

Before Naruto could reply, Sasuke was rushing up to Danzō and Sasori. Naruto stopped himself from screaming his name: any noise could give his teammate away, and that would be even worse.

 _Are you really doing it?_

Sasuke landed next to Danzō, who was so focused on finishing Sasori at last, he barely took notice of him. And Sasuke . . . he ran his sword through Sasori's heart with all his might, and left it sticking there, swaying around with a metallic sound.

"That was unnecessary, Uchiha," they heard Danzō say.

When Sasuke looked first at the cripple and then at them, Naruto finally knew what he wanted. And he realized that then and there, Sakura and him would decide what was going to happen next.

Sasuke gave them the choice. Say nothing and things would proceed like always . . .

Beside him, Sakura held her hands ready, and in that moment Naruto made his decision. One more strike; another sin to the growing list. He had fought for so long now, had been thrown around at every conceivable possibility . . . That moment he didn't have it in him anymore to deny his family. In all this storm, in all this chaos, they were there. Had always been there, the anchor that made sure he wouldn't lose himself in madness.

It was a hard realization, but in this moment he realized it for the first time in full bright clarity, a brightness that could be dangerously blinding perhaps: He would follow them, no matter where they went.

"Oi, Shimura!" he hollered, and Danzō's head snapped around while Naruto, grimacing from the pain in his leg, righted his body as much as he could to become more visible among the rubble. "You banged any grannies lately?"

"Uzumak—"

Danzō stopped, eyes flashing dangerously to Sakura, whose strongest Genjutsu took him barely a second to dispel.

But that was enough.

Sasuke rammed his sword through his body, bloody tip protruding from the front. Before anything more could happen he turned his wrist and sliced clean through to the left. A scarlet arc fountained out of Danzō's side, spattering all over Sasuke. He stood in the crimson rain and looked down at the slumped body, his face drawn with exhaustion, confusion and the grim realization of what he had just done.

Sakura lifted Naruto on her back, grunting and heaving and puffing air, and trudged with him over to Sasuke and Danzō's corpse. The body lay in a lake of blood. Tufts of black hair were colored red, and like a thriving underbrush seeking more space, his guts leaked out.

 _Why did you do it, you old bastard?_ Naruto thought, observing the scene from behind Sakura's shoulder. _I knew you were a damn prick, but I thought you were from Konoha, too. And after all this invasion business I didn't even think you should have died, because you actually did your damn job. But this? You were Jiji's friend for God's sake. How could you do that?_

He wondered and questioned, but dead men gave no answers. And maybe that was exactly the problem, he thought looking at the corpse. The death of Councilor Danzō, then, a last brick in the palace of absurdity Team Seven built for themselves. He thought that Danzō's expression wasn't much of anything. But why expect something in the first place, and even then, what? Happiness, for the struggle was over? Betrayal, since it could be called nothing else? Or acceptance after all, because whatever he did could have had no other consequence in the end? No, nothing of this fit the man, and so the expression of nothing was fitting in its own way. He denied them that last understanding and _that_ , if nothing else, was entirely like him. The shinobi code said: The greatest weakness of a shinobi was to show emotion. Well, then, there had never lived a man who had embodied this philosophy more than him.

Slowly though the shock wore off, and Naruto found himself calculating his next steps as the rational part of him asserted itself. They had just murdered one of the highest officials in Konoha's hierarchy in a place that couldn't be more public if it tried. They had to deal with this, fast at that.

"Sakura," he said sharply. "Is anyone close to us?"

She concentrated, then shook her head. "Not right now. The next signature is two districts away. The fight must've scared them off."

"Good," Naruto said. "You got a scroll?"

"An empty one," Sasuke said.

Naruto took the scroll from him. "Lower me to the ground, Sakura. Yes—there, right there. Okay, stop, a bit to the left." He glanced over his shoulder. "Sasuke, make sure no one sees us here. If someone comes . . . " He trailed off, shook his head. Then, slowly, and with further instructions to Sakura, he lifted one of Sasori's rotor blades with the scroll as a makeshift glove. Palace of madness indeed; a bright light that blinded easily. "You don't have to look," he told Sakura.

"It's okay."

Then Naruto began his work, hacking and slashing into the wound Sasuke had created, making it unidentifiable as being the result of a clean sword strike. The blood was all over their clothes and faces, and the sound of organs being halved turned their stomachs around, but he kept going until nothing could point to Sasuke anymore. Naruto directed Sakura to move him a bit forward, and he sliced off the arm housing all the Uchiha eyes at the shoulder, repeating the process of mutilating the flesh afterward.

"Crude," he said in a low voice, "but it works . . . I hope." To Sakura, "Let me down somewhere, I need to write. Anyone coming, Sasuke?"

"No."

"Good."

Sakura lugged his body to a wooden beam rising from the rubble and propped him against it. There he spread the empty scroll on his lap. He turned it to get at the less bloody side and dipped a finger in Danzō's arm, which he had taken with him. Then he began to write in long squiggly waves. Three minutes later the storage seal held Sasuke's sword and Danzō's arm. Naruto threw the scroll at Sasuke.

"One seal of blood. Take good care of the arm if you want to keep it, and get rid of the sword once we're in Konoha."

"Hn."

"You okay, Sakura?"

"Not really," she said, "but I'll manage."

And only then, when he had that last confirmation, when the survival of his family had been secured, did he allow himself to lose control. He bent over, held his palm up to his mouth, though he could not stop the reaction anymore. He felt his stomach turn once more, then he vomited.

He kept retching until it felt as though he was fully empty, and he kept sitting propped against the wooden beam for minutes, Sakura wiping his sweaty hair out of his face.

"Listen," Sasuke suddenly said.

There was no complete silence—there never could be in a city of this size, destroyed or otherwise—but the sound of fighting had stopped.

"Finished at the docks, then," Naruto said, voice threadbare. "And Danzō took care of Senyaku, or he wouldn't have come to save us."

"Kakashi-sensei?"

They grew silent and tried to listen. From the direction of the large reservoir peeking out just over the tallest houses came no noise either, which was either very good, or very bad.

"You think he made it?"

"He's Kakashi-sensei, of course he made it."

"Dobe's right. Man's a monster all on his own."

Naruto rotated his shoulder, massaging it for good measure, then reached both hands toward Sakura and waited for her to pick him up and heave him onto her shoulders.

"I don't think I've enough juice to go far," she said.

"Don't need far, just away from Danzō. Next street or so should be fine."

They climbed through the rubble with all the vitality their condition granted them, but when they reached the beginning of what looked like it had been a street prior to being eradicated, they heard an unwelcome noise—not fighting exactly, but the sound of shifting debris as if someone previously thought dead was coming alive.

They turned, and when they saw who arose under coughing and shudders, and bleeding and having lost an arm, Naruto pushed curse after curse out of his mouth.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck!"

Sasuke wasn't exactly steady on his feet, but he shared the sentiment.

How could they have forgotten about Gaara and that guy? And how was that guy even alive after eating his own bomb?

"Get Gaara, quick!" Naruto said. They set about to move, but Deidara was faster. He did not pay them any attention and pushed his remaining hand into the bag at his hip. The being that emerged a second later was so unfair, for a moment Naruto lacked words.

Deidara swung himself on a birdlike creature that, with strong flaps, lifted itself up into the air, Gaara secured on its back.

"Gaara!" Naruto shouted, but Gaara was unconscious.

Team Seven hurled whatever weaponry they had left after the bird, but Deidara dodged them with ease, swerving from side to side. Then he was past them and flew northeast over the city and toward the horizon, where Team Seven couldn't reach him anymore.

They tried to follow, but exhaustion demanding its tribute at last, Sakura fell to her knees and Naruto tumbled off her shoulder; and he couldn't help it, but he wept as he hit the ground, and he kept weeping even a minute later. He hammered his fist on the ground and thought on failure, and Sasuke and Sakura sat with him, and none of them said a word.

* * *

Back pressed against the wall of a former living room, Kakashi lay among heaps of rubble and furniture. Lava, cold and hard, encased his lower body and left arm up to the shoulder, trapping him in a black prison. He would like to escape, even had the chakra for it, but the rest of his body was hurt enough that moving was out of the question. Like many shinobi in this battle, he would have to wait for the teams scouring the city after the battle. Then, and only then, would he be rescued.

Across him lay Rōshi, unconscious, limbs stretched away from him, two fingers missing on his left hand. Kakashi had a good view of him and even though he couldn't move, he was perfectly happy with how things stood right now. The score was one to zero for him, as it should be after the grueling training with Tsunade.

Now and then he looked at the direction his team was in, but as he still felt their signatures—weak as they were—he was content to lean his head back and wait. He had bested a Jinchūriki, after all. That took quite a lot out of a man.

He also did not entertain the notion that Rōshi would wake up anytime soon. In their last exchange, as Rōshi's prison kept advancing, Kakashi had hit him with enough lightning to fry every cell in his body. A normal person would've died from that. Rōshi had fallen backward and started sleeping.

 _That's a Jinchūriki for you_ , Kakashi thought. _Almost unfair. But not quite, because look at that: you won, Hatake. Now if only your team comes to rescue you, everything will be perfect._

But his team failed to show up, even five minutes later. Instead he felt the air currents shift, heard the wing strokes of a large bird, powerful, droning. A shadow sailed over him.

He had never seen a bird which could throw such a large shadow, so he looked up. The comfortable feeling of having won evaporated like mist. The bird, a monstrosity of clay, flew over him and lowered near Rōshi. On its back was the seemingly lifeless frame of the Kazekage.

Kakashi struggled to get out of the cooled lava, but his body failed to listen. He shouted and Deidara shot him a pained grimace, holding the stump of his shoulder before going back to ignoring him. Kakashi pressed with chakra against his prison, but Rōshi had been quite clever when he invented that Jutsu.

Deidara's bird gripped Rōshi in both claws and set off toward the horizon. Kakashi cursed as he redoubled his efforts to escape.

Deidara was past the first row of ruins, when a blast of wind tore at his bird's left wing. For a moment it looked like it would lose itself to the current of air and spiral toward the ground. Then it managed and swerved away from the blast. Deidara kept holding on to Gaara's body, which had almost slipped from the back during the maneuver.

On one of the last surviving roofs stood Temari swinging her fan. Another squall broke forth, but Deidara saw it coming this time and his bird dodged in time as it continued on its path out of the city.

Kakashi looked around frantically for something to help her with because he knew that like this she'd never make it. There was a kunai lying near him. He tried for the handle with his free arm but couldn't reach it.

Deidara was dodging another attack, now a row of houses farther.

Kakashi kept looking, left, right, left. Then he found it, and almost regretted finding it. A piece of sharpened wood hung from a support beam sticking out of the rubble. It was broken off diagonally. He stretched his torso as far as he could, opened his mouth and chomped down on the stick, tearing it away from the support beam.

Temari was screaming, pure fury behind her.

Kakashi spat the stick into his free hand so he could reach the blunt end with his mouth and have the sharp end stick out once he took it between his teeth again. His mouth a crossbow now, and tasting the half-burnt wood, wetting the blunt end with spit, he took aim. His Sharingan focused on the rear end of Deidara's bird.

One try. That was all he had.

He gathered wind chakra in his lungs, rotated it, amassing more and more, a snowball rolling down a slope. He felt it scrape against his insides, tearing at his flesh; and as the first bit of blood gathered in his mound and mixed with saliva, he knew he'd regret this later because controlling an element not your own without hand seals never turned out well.

Then he released his control of the wind inside him, felt it tear out first from his lungs and then past his lips in a violent storm, taking the wooden stake with it on its journey up the sky. Before the stake was even halfway up there with Deidara, Kakashi screamed in pain because the technique left its marks, as did he on the rubble which was now red with spatters of his blood.

The scream alerted Deidara, whose bird pushed down, out of the way of the stake which hurtled past him.

Then Temari's wind hit the bird frontally, and the bird was thrown back, Rōshi still secure in its claws. Deidara though held onto the bird with all his might and had no free hand to keep the Kazekage on board. Gaara slipped from the back. Before he hit the ground Temari jumped to catch him. She landed on the street below, clutching Gaara's body to her chest.

For a moment it looked as though Deidara would turn around, but then he looked at Rōshi and continued on his flight out of the city.

He was almost over Hajim's wall, when Kakashi blacked out.

* * *

Hatake Kakashi tried to move his facial muscles, but working up a smile in the backdrop of a destroyed city was not going well for him. Still he went for the attempt. To trick the brain into thinking you were happy, even if that was untrue, was an essential skill for any shinobi that had been involved in bloodshed on such a scale.

So the corners of his mouth kept twitching as an exercise in futility while his charges wore the weight of their recent experiences on their faces for the world to see. That, too, was important. Because if there weren't any of the young leaving a war disgusted and looking as much, then too many people would believe that wars were good things, filled with action, heroic deeds, compassion between comrades and maybe even love, an event that strengthened the bonds between friends, made brothers and sisters out of enemies—as long as those were on the same side of the line, of course.

Kakashi sat at a table, pen poised, cream-soaked bandages pressing at his throat. "What happened then?" he asked with a rasp, feeling the folds in his throat shudder at each syllable. "I need a bit more detail than 'He died.'"

Naruto eased out a sigh. "He walked up to him, cane-sword and all—"

"He was already injured?"

"Heavily," said Sakura. "He fought Senyaku before getting to us again. More than enough blood on his clothes already—not sure if all his though."

Senyaku—now, if there ever was a name that made smiling harder, it was that one. The man hadn't just found out about Kakashi way back during the time he was spying on Suna's invasion plans, but had also been the instigator of this whole mess. The poison, leading the rebel forces, the assassination of the Daimyo: Senyaku's list of transgressions went on for quite a bit. Though if his team were to be believed, the man had been controlled by Sasori for some time. How long was hard to tell.

"So, Naruto, Danzō went up to Sasori's body?"

"Yeah, he was still alive at that point though—Sasori, I mean." Naruto scratched his neck. He looked uncomfortable with the topic, but that was to be expected. Team Seven did what they could, but they had still watched their general die without being able to interfere. "He was controlling two puppets—his parents, probably; one got the same hair as him."

"But he was lying on the ground?"

"Never seen anything like it. Man's been a monster with his puppets. Those last two? Felt like fighting real people, sensei. Like . . . like if he knew them better than any other puppet, even that iron thrower of his."

"You fought them and Danzō kept to the puppeteer?"

"Pretty much. Had a lot of problems with those puppets so I can't say for sure what exactly happened on Danzō's end. I think another trick. Poison maybe? Or just a surprise to give Sasori the time to do what he did. He had a ton of these chest cavities for the fire hose, and knives and senbon."

"And you killed him in the end, Sasuke?"

Sasuke looked at him with a face carved out of granite. "Sakura and Naruto can hold their own for a while, doesn't matter which opponent, so I helped."

"What did you see?"

"Councilor Danzō had no chance of survival at that point." A frank assessment if there ever was one. "Sasori had wounded him with his blades. A lot of fresh blood around the stomach and he'd lost an arm. He wasn't screaming though. In pain, but not screaming."

"His arm…" Kakashi murmured. "There were no traces of his arm anywhere near the battle when the search teams went through the rubble."

High-ranking officials and especially the generals of a battle received funeral pyres large enough that their smoke blackened out the sky at night. The teams that combed the battlefields always took great care to search for any lost limb, which would then be stitched onto the corpse to send the person to the Shinigami in one piece. It was a superstition, but shinobi often believed that if you left the world without a limb, you'd still be missing it in the afterlife.

"I didn't see the arm when I was there with him."

"Wouldn't be surprised if Sasori did something with it," Naruto said. He leaned against a support beam, arms crossed and slightly swaying, eyes bloodshot. "The amount of shit he hid in his puppet was unreal."

"He wasn't classified as S-Rank for nothing," Kakashi said. "You did well here. All of you. And I mean that for both years you've been here."

He was still trying to smile. Hearing about this incident didn't make it any easier though. Knowing that his team, at different points in time, went up against three different S-Rankers left a heavy lump in his stomach that wouldn't vanish, no matter how often he saw them now—safe and sound, but also broken by that beast called war.

"Well, except the insubordination thing, eh?" Naruto laughed weakly, the vestige of a grin on his face as he shot his teammates a look. The grin went as fast as it had come, leaving the tiredness alone again.

"Insubordination?" Kakashi asked with a drawn eyebrow.

"Yeah, at the beginning, I think. Been here for a month or so at most. Some douchebags bullying children—Konoha douchebags. Convinced them to leave 'em alone, but Danzō wasn't happy with that—said he'd put it in our files."

"Ah," Kakashi said, nodding. He wouldn't have expected any different. They were quite headstrong when they wanted to be, especially so when they saw something they perceived as injustice. "Well, I've got your files right here, and there's nothing in it—your official records are as clean as always."

"Did he forget it?" Sakura asked.

"Danzō never forgot anything," Kakashi said. "But enough of that. Back to the fight: he was dying and you did what, Sasuke?"

"Killed Sasori."

"How?"

"He was distracted—Danzō did something. I couldn't see what." Sasuke shrugged his shoulders stiffly. "I used that moment to kill him. Sword through the heart. He died instantly after that."

Kakashi hummed, wrote a few more lines on the scroll. "That's all then, I'd say." He rolled up the paper and sealed it. "I'll send this to the Hokage with the other reports. He'll want to know about this."

"Sensei?"

"Yes?"

"Is . . . Do we continue to fight in Suna now?" asked Sakura. "There's still the capital and Iho's brother, and—"

"You don't—None of you will, for now."

Naruto sighed. "We're being sent to the northern border?"

The three looked so tired, it made his stomach fold in on itself. It was a strange form of protectiveness that welled up inside him at the sight. "That's not going to happen either—not now, at least." He lifted another scroll from a staple and presented it to them on his flat palm. "You've been heavily injured—injuries which allow for full recuperation, but only with enough time to heal. Tsunade herself has verified this—though she isn't here just yet. She will be though, at least in writing."

Their expressions eased at that, and Kakashi found that he liked this view.

"Installing Iho as the Daimyo won't be as hard as you believe anyway, so don't worry too much about it," Kakashi continued. "Sawada is current regent through regicide—by now enough people know this, and with all the shinobi gone that supported his rule he won't be able to silence his opposition anymore. I heard his sister broke out of the palace the moment the last shinobi left for Hajim, and she's been spreading the word about what happened—probably more effective than Iho in any case."

"That's good to hear," Sakura said, and she seemed genuinely pleased.

After a beat of silence Naruto asked, "What happens now? We stay at Hajim?"

"I think we overstayed our welcome here . . . No, we'll wait until we combed the city for the last bodies then move back to Suna with the main force. There you'll stay and rest."

A wind swept through the tent, ruffling the fabric and carrying inside the scent of roasted pork and booze, and the bellowing and laughter of drunken people. On command, their stomachs growled. Though it was a sad growl, because neither looked like they would want to eat any time soon.

"You three should be at the feast. You've earned it." A victory feast, as usual, was held after a major battle. How much the end of this could really be called a victory though was questionable. "Team Seven, dismissed."

They straightened up, saluted once, then turned to leave.

"See you around, sensei."

"Don't drink too much," Kakashi said, looking up from the scroll, but they were already gone. Still he said to the empty room, "I'm proud of you," before reading over the reports a last time.

He had no illusions about the nature of the favoritism he showed his team. He doubted the Hokage would see it as anything else either. But as unfair as it was to the other people in this army, Kakashi did not care about being unfair.

A large part of the forces would be sent to be redistributed in the next month, but there might still be a few unfriendly elements lurking in the desert—you never knew with those rebels. That was a prime reason for the leader of an army and a few capable subordinates to stay until the country was really, well and truly pacified.

In that time he'd train with his team as much as he could. And there was a subtle difference between training a team and training _with_ it.

In any case, none of them would leave this place without a field promotion, though he had abstained from telling them just then. He did not think they would have cared much for it.

One by one, Kakashi sealed all the scrolls into a bigger one which would be delivered to the Hokage as soon as possible.

In the end he wasn't their instructor anymore, he told himself, pushing the matrix scroll in the hands of a waiting courier outside the tent. But that was okay, because they had grown up—all three of them. And what's important, what made all this really bearable, was the knowledge that a teacher faded, but never vanished entirely, not as long as his teachings were remembered by those he had taught.

And he wondered if that was how Minato must have felt when he had made Jōnin, or how the Hokage had felt once Hanzō titled his team as the Sannin.

"Yo, Kakashi!"

Izumo appeared beside him. He threw a bottle at him and Kakashi caught it with ease from the ANBU-that-wasn't-right-now. Then they drank as the night began to settle and still the camp fires burned high and the noise swelled farther as people celebrated the death of thousands and the ruin of a city.

The last thought Kakashi gave into, before trying to forget with all his might and the help of his bottle, was that this war—the whole of it—was a feast for the depraved and that becoming a shinobi should be forbidden to anyone young and easy to influence, because their minds were not firm, yet their convictions far too strong, and all that led to in the end was betrayal, lies, and death.

Then oblivion came calling and, leaning into the embrace of sake djinns, he let himself be swept away; because if you couldn't convince yourself to smile, blunting the mind and forgetting seemed just as valid.

* * *

The sky was streaked with clouds, cream and white and copper; and over Wind Country settled the heat like a warm blanket to lull the newborn nation and the village of Suna into sleep, two twins in a crib of destitution and ash.

Sweat beading down his temples, Gaara walked the streets of Suna a week after the battle of Hajim.

There was the heady smell of perfume as he went on, past the street of red and brothels and women flashing skin and men doing the same, bringing joy to whoever needed it in times where everyone needed something; past the food vendors now stocked as the country rearranged itself; and past the smell of Rakaji mixed with the smoke of pipes and spices and the stench of sweat and the city.

They celebrated the end. They celebrated the beginning.

He found that for what had happened they were celebrating entirely too much.

Then he was past the district of celebration, which come morning would be the district of sleeping people and waste and then, come evening, of music and dance again. His steps led him up the stairs to the plaza of tiles, now rebuilt, and from there to the balloon-shaped tower of the Kazekage.

Sakura was there, waiting on him. She stood observing the portraits of his predecessors, which hung to the side of his desk.

"Gaara," she said, turning.

Gaara tilted his head. "Do I come at a bad time?"

"Well, it's your office." She laughed; it sounded forced. "I . . . I've been waiting here for you, because I have a favor to ask. Got some time?"

He didn't, not really. There was still a lot to prepare.

Tomorrow he would lead a small group of shinobi past the Sweeping Mountains to liberate Sukoru. Temari would be with him on her last official mission as a shinobi of Suna. And from that moment on, she would stay with Iho, advising him and being the link between Suna and the court, just not in an official capacity. That was impossible after she had fought in the rebellion, and giving this much concession at all made him appear weak already. And still it had felt good to feel her arms around him for the first time he could remember, and feel an embrace that seemed free of fear, from his family no less. He felt himself smile at the memory, even if there was also always now the thought of Kankuro and how his brother had ended in the end.

Shaking himself from these thoughts, he turned his attention back to Sakura.

" . . . I have time, yes," he said. "Is there a problem?"

Sakura hesitated. Then, "I need you to look something up in a file for me. Without a Kazekage the vaults stayed sealed, but you're Kazekage now, so you should have the clearance for that."

"That is—"

"I know it's asking much, but . . . please? It's important to me."

Gaara nodded wordlessly. He began moving for the record chamber, Sakura following.

"What do you need, Sakura? I cannot have you enter the chamber, but I am willing to search myself for what you seek."

"I . . . of course, I understand." Sakura rubbed her right arm awkwardly. "It's about my mother. She was killed here in Suna and I think I killed the bastard who did it. No, I know it. All I want is . . . " For a moment she trailed off. "What I want is assurance. I want to be sure that killing Sasori was the end of this."

Gaara glanced at her. "Sasori of the Sand killed your mother?"

"Yes. I asked around in Suna, you know? It was a while ago, and it fits. All of it. The puppets, the hair. God, I'm so glad that bastard's dead, Gaara." And her expression brightened with relief, as if the word _dead_ brought life to her face. "I just want to know if that's the end. I mean, I _do_ know it. But I want to be sure."

He nodded along.

They reached the record chamber, where two Suna Genin stood guard before the vault. They snapped to attention as Gaara came into view.

"Stay here," he said to Sakura. He pressed his palm on the stone wall, and went inside after the seals stopped glowing.

* * *

The door closed behind him with the sound of stone scraping against stone. Privacy seals washed over him in waves as he leaned against the cool wall inside, surprised that his heart was beating a tattoo in his chest. Unsteady. Fast. His breath came in rapid expulsions. In. Out. He staggered forward, almost fell, before gripping the edge of a shelf and steadying himself.

Sasori of the Sand had left the village years before Sakura's birth.

Gaara reached for his chest, hand crooked, as if gripping his heart. What was this feeling? The fabric of his robe twisted and crumpled in his clenched fist, and he stumbled on through the rows of records. He half-hung from the shelves, wondering about this new feeling inside him which spread like wildfire and was jumbling his thoughts.

He stopped before a shelf, fingers brushing over scrolls, twitching as if plagued by arthritis. He pulled one out, unfurled it, read. He threw it to the ground. The next scroll came, and a third, a fourth. The shelf lost more and more, grew emptier by the minute. His search became more frantic as he worked from top to bottom, from now to the past of years best left forgotten.

And then, almost at the end, he found it. He read the scroll, memories flashing before his eyes. He saw himself and a young boy around his age. They were playing with a pair of puppets from the boy, who did not know about the evil Gaara held inside him at all times. They played and they laughed and the traders around them did the same because they, too, knew nothing.

And as they imagined battles between their two puppets, grand fights of epic scale, moving in the shadow of a large acacia with gnarly wood and smelling slightly of sweet bread, laughing on, steady on, his father's men came for the third time in his short life and tried to kill him. One assassin missed with his throw. The shuriken wasn't caught by the sand that shielded Gaara and surrounded by tearing wind it ripped the puppets apart and the hand of the boy with it. The boy shrieked, and Gaara saw only the blood and his new friend and the puppets stained red, and there was a voice inside him, and then came the sand, so much of it that it engulfed all, smothering them, like a deranged mother would smother bothersome children with a blanket.

And he remembered, Mother had been angry that day. So very, very angry.

His chest heaved as he was sucked back into reality. The scroll fell from his loose grasp, hitting the ground and rolling across the floor. He wondered how he would tell Sakura the truth. Then he decided that at the same time he must but couldn't. She had been the first to accept him. Naruto came afterward. But she—

How could he tell her that it was him who had killed her mother?

The acceptance from her and her team was what had kept him sane after the voice in his head had died. She had made him feel not the monster he was, but the human he sought to become.

Time passed. An eternity, a second; an hour, a minute. At last he pushed himself from the floor, smoothed his clothes, and dragged himself back to the door. He threw the heap of thrown-out scrolls a last look, before turning completely.

Outside, Sakura waited on him.

"And?"

He looked at her, just looked. A moment came and went, then he said, "You killed him."

Sakura's face brightened even more than before. Having lost the weight on her shoulders at last, she straightened before jumping up to him and closing her arms around him as the Genin busied themselves with looking away, smiling.

He stared at the other end of the wall and murmured over her shoulder, "I'm sorry about your mother."

And Sakura still hugged him fiercely and said, "Thank you, Gaara." Then, letting go and winking, "I know you'll be busy come tomorrow, so I better leave you to your preparations. See you around, Kazekage-sama."

Then she was gone, taking her smile with her.

And Gaara still had no name for the feeling in his gut, but maybe all this was the penance for who he was.

Down below, in the streets of Suna, the people kept celebrating.

* * *

The night stood like a monument to the sleeping souls of Suna, and Team Seven used the cover of darkness to their advantage, struggling forward through the strong gusts of wind sweeping around the village. The feasts had stopped two days ago as the winds had picked up. At times the sky now looked like the back of an old veteran, furrowed with white scars as thunder shattered the sky into pieces of black ink.

"Couldn't have asked for better weather," Naruto said as they arrived at the Shard Wall just outside the village. "No one's here to bother us."

Leaning against the wall, Sakura asked, "So you're really doing this?"

"Of course. You're helping by the way, standing guard and all. If necessary you can use a Genjutsu to deter unwanted elements."

"That sounds like you want her to kill them," Sasuke said, arms crossed.

"Which is beside the point anyway," Sakura said, "because I already layered a few illusions when we arrived. You didn't notice that?"

"My bad." Naruto glanced at her. "I'm a bit preoccupied with planning the layout, so that's my excuse right there." He bit his lip, looking up the Shard Wall, and took the measures in his mind. Then, large brush in hand, he turned to Sakura, pointing at her—brush dribbling with black color. "Those illusions make you complicit, by the way. You're now officially involved in this."

Naruto sensed another illusion spring up around the area and traced it back to Sasuke.

"That's sweet of you," Naruto said.

"Get to work."

"Will do."

As Sasuke and Sakura stood guard below, Naruto plunged the huge brush into the bucket with ink. Sticking to the Shard Wall, he began what must look to outward eyes like the scribbles of a child. He looped here and there, swerved around the wall with precision and covered the other side, too. It was hard work. The light was bad and only the occasional lightning illuminated the complexity of his achievement.

After an hour he stopped and returned to the ground. The bucket was empty.

"Done?" asked Sakura.

"Pretty much. Let's go. We shouldn't be here when they notice."

So they went toward Suna, and Sakura and Sasuke let their illusions fall away as they walked. Once inside the village, they climbed one of the now repaired houses—one of the taller structures in the village—to get a good view.

"You really want to do that?"

"You start repeating yourself, Sakura."

Sakura hummed thoughtfully. "Just thought the question bears asking again. You know, with committing a crime and all that. But don't let me stop you."

"As if this would be the worst one."

A heavy silence settled on them. Then Sasuke grunted. "Stop talking, and do it."

"Keep your panties on, I'm doing it already…Three, Two, One—" Naruto's hand shifted into the rat seal. " _Fuin: Kai!_ "

For an instant the Shard Wall lit up in blue, blinding in the black of night. Every scribble, every line, every loop was visible against the backdrop of the wall. The moment passed as the light flashed over their faces. The Shard Wall shrieked. It turned into a thunder, a roar that tore the silence apart.

Blue lines changed place with the red and white flash of an explosion, and the ground trembled. Already they heard the dull thuds of pieces, large and small, raining and hitting the sand below. The strong wind carried the dust into every direction.

"Well," Naruto said, "that's that."

"And you're sure that's wise?"

Naruto would have laughed, but the reason for this made it quite impossible. "Given our situation it's the farthest away from wise you can get, Sakura. But fuck if I let that thing stand there to remind them for all eternity that we've been here and what our war's done to them."

"Two cities," she murmured.

"It's almost comical, don't you think? All we did to reach Hajim in time was worth shit for those people. We didn't stop the poison in time, and even if we had, you know what happened later. Fighting in that city did a more thorough job than any poison could've. So, Kakashi's right. They have well and truly enough of us. No need to remind them."

"It's time," Sasuke said.

They jumped down the roof and onto the street, falling in line with a dozen other shinobi hastening to the scene. There they met Izumo, who had his arms crossed and was eying what was now a field of shards.

"No enemy close right now," he told the assembled shinobi after a few minutes of searching and walking the perimeter. Then, "Team Seven, you're going to investigate this. Find out who did this."

All three saluted, shouting a unified, "Hai!" Slowly but surely the shinobi around them left the site to the now appointed investigators. Not that someone would've found a trace leading to them even if Izumo had chosen different people.

 _First failed mission for the record then_ , Naruto thought, bending down and picking up a small piece of black obsidian sticking out from the sand.

"I think I'll keep this."

"Getting sentimental now that it's gone?"

"It _was_ a good job. And if they should forget, then we sure as hell should remember."

Sakura picked up her own piece, then, and a second which she lobbed at Sasuke. "I think I get Jiraiya-sensei now," she said, easing out a sigh. "War's a shit fulltime occupation. You can't really leave this place without getting that . . . And I know it's not all that realistic what he says, but maybe trying for it makes this whole deal better."

Maybe. Trying was, in any case, all they could do anyway. At length they walked back to the village. Investigating the field could wait another night—the perpetrators wouldn't run away from them—and drinking sounded like a great idea right about now.

Halfway through the gate, Naruto slung his left arm around Sasuke's shoulder. A moment later he reached with his other arm for Sakura and took her hand lightly in his own; together they kept walking.

Because to the very end, the underlying nature of this country held true. In black times like these you sought joy wherever you could find it, and maybe, if you looked long and hard enough, you would find light eventually.

* * *

THE END

* * *

 **AN:** Well, folks, that's it; another part of the tale has come to a close. It was a wonderful time in which I wrote Lines in the Sand, and I hope that at least some of the excitement I felt bled into the story itself. I hope that you found some of it yourself, and that in this sense we connected. I hope that you liked the story and the characters, the fights and the tension I tried to evoke, the setting of Wind Country, the world, the prose . . . in short, I hope you enjoyed yourself the same way I did while writing.

If that's not fully true, that's okay, of course. That you're reading this means you made it to this point, so at least some things must have grabbed your attention. To you, I leave the words "I'm sorry." I tried my hardest to bring this story on paper as best I could, and this is what came around in the attempt.

Anyway, I thank everyone for reading the story and enduring the verbiage in these ANs. Beside any comment you want to leave, here's a last batch of questions for you, if you'd like to answer them: what character/scene/moment did you like the most? What fight did you enjoy? What kind of world-building or plot? Likewise, what didn't you like? Hit me, I promise I can take it—even if it might hurt.

Now, before I sign out, there's a last issue I want to direct your attention to: I wrote a short story, _Tessen_ , that also plays in the Naruto verse and utilizes a different narrative structure than most of my other stories. If you want to read something more recent, just hop over to my profile and click yourself into another adventure (admittedly a short one).

Correcting myself here, now comes the truly last issue: My gratitude to the fantastic crew over at DLP. Their advice and editing services made this a much better read than it could otherwise have been, so the last word should go to them. Thanks, guys!

Cheers

Eilyfe


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